300 Years of Being Forgotten (Mostly)
by MoonRose91
Summary: Three hundred years is a long time to be mostly forgotten.
1. Golden Frozen Streams

**A/N: **I am having issues with the next chapter in the Cat of Hogwarts: Harry's First Year. This is because I have no idea how much I am going to change from the book (from just a slight shift to nothing at all, essentially), but I also need to make sure that I have the timeline right for those first few weeks.

I apologize for everyone who is waiting for various fics to be updated. I will be trying to finish up those that I have started, but it will be a long and slow process.

**One-Shot Summary: **So in tune as he was with his streams of golden dream sand that he knew the instant they were disturbed. He had feared the worst. But his fear had nothing on what he actually found.

* * *

Sandy, as the Sandman was known to his, relatively, new found friends, smiled as he sent his streams of golden sand down upon the colonies.

The children needed happy dreams with the darkness that was encroaching on the horizon, and Pitch, despite being defeated, as curling up with his gleaming teeth bared in a vicious grin, though he kept far from Sandy, as if knowing that, of all the Guardians, Sandy was the one who could hurt him the most.

Sandy wondered, distantly, if Pitch would ever consider that Sandy would have accepted his help. Would have wanted to befriend the creature of Darkness and Fear and Nightmares, because they were not bad, so long as they were not in excess, but Pitch never did anything half way.

Sandy let out a sigh at that and quickly turned his thoughts to brighter thoughts and the golden dream sand, so tightly bound to Sandy himself, began to glow brighter then before as they flowed to the earth in shining streams, more precious then even the most glorious treasure. Sandy continued to spin the dreams, sometimes only planting a seed and letting the child twirl it up and away into something more glorious then anything Sandy could create, much like a young boy (nearly three months dead now, much to Sandy's regret) whose name Sandy had never known, just that the boy was practically fun personified.

He made everything a game, got chores done better, faster, then when they were left to their own devices, easily watched the youngest of children and had them all working together, all playing together, even when food ran scarce and he had to give up his meals to his younger sister.

And Sandy knew all of this because they errupted from the children's heads after his death, remembering the good times, bright and brilliant, with that hint of darkness that spoke of sadness and fear over the loss.

Sandy did not know the boy's name, but he felt the loss as keenly as the children of that village, even if he did not know him as well.

He sighed, shaking himself violently.

If his mind kept wandering, the children would not have as pleasent dreams and he thought of Tooth and the way she cooed over the teeth. He thought about North and the wonder he saw in even the smallest of things.

He thought of Bunnymund, or Bunny, who always held onto hope even the face of the darkest of nights. With each happy thought, of warm thoughts and hearths and hot chocolate and laughter, the streams grew brighter and brighter until it was as if sunlight was streaming down from the cloud.

Sandy smiled, the golden dream sand wrapping around him firmly, as much a part of him as his hair.

It had been a growing thing, really, as, over time, the golden dream sand that was once just a tool became more and more absorbed into his being, becoming something like an addition to his consciousness.

So in-tune he was with his golden streams now that he noticed the moment one was disturbed.

Sandy jumped in surprise and immediately floated down, fearing the worst.

Had Pitch just tried to corrupt one of his dreams?

What if Pitch had _stolen_ some of the dream sand?

Sandy shuddered a little at the thought.

The Nightmare King did not need any more power and if he got a hold of some of the golden dream sand and corrupted it, it would not bode well for _any_ of the Guardians, or other spirits for that matter.

However, as Sandy glided down, hesitant to get too close (this small town hadn't finished settling down, some adults still awake, even some children who had reached the age beyond belief, sadly), he found something far worse than his imagination could have come up with.

There was a spirit, pale as the snow, in a hide cape, cloak...thing over his shoulders, barefoot, clinging tightly to a shepherd's crook, stretching up to touch the golden stream, and that same disturbance skittered across Sandy's being as some horses rushed out. This time, the boy gave them a touch of frost and the horses became silvery, rearing and galloping around, bright and shining as they raced around the spirit before galloping away.

But, while it was a beautiful scene, it was obvious that the spirit was in pain.

HIs face, while filled with joy and awe, was also broken.

Sandy winced when he saw someone, a child that was racing around and staring at the streams (Sandy sighed over the child still awake fondly, smiling at the way the boy ran around, trying to touch the golden streams), run right through the spirit, a winter spirit most likely due to the coloring and the fact he had iced over the golden sand horses before they raced off.

Sandy knew they would return, eventually.

Wayward dreams were never a bad thing.

Sandy saw the way the boy, because this was a child (and how could the Man in the Moon create a spirit from a child?), crumpled, pained and defeated and Sandy remembered.

He remembered what the other Guardians never had to go through.

Or the other spirits for that matter.

They never had to deal with being walked through, with being unseen, unheard (Sandy shook his head a little in a slightly self-deprecating way at that; he was _always_ unheard), for _centuries_, until the newest one had come.

Sandy had made _sure_ they never felt alone.

And how could he not do the same for this lost child?

He carefully sent out a new stream of golden sand and had it whirl around the boy.

The boy lifted off with the wind in surprise and joy and Sandy carefully directed the sand up to swirl around, enticing the boy to move away from the village.

It would only hurt more.

The winter spirit followed excitedly and Sandy began to coax him away, letting his dream sand streams do as they needed, easily finding the children, and the children at heart, towards the woods. The spirit followed gleefully, laughing and jumping about.

The Winds seemed to have taken a liking to the child ('Good, that means he won't be alone,' Sandy thought to himself) and pushed him up.

They weren't used to liking someone, but they would get used to it, follow the example Sandy would give and the boy spirit chased after the friendly stream until he pulled up short as they reached the frozen lake where Sandy was floating, the boy bringing up his staff defensively.

"Who are you?" The boy of winter asked, fearful and Sandy blinked in surprise.

He made a question mark above his head and image of himself, before putting an 'x' over himself. "No, I don't know who you are. Wait…you can see me? You can hear me?" the boy asked and the joy, oh, the joy on the boy's face nearly made Sandy's heart break.

He wondered if he looked that way when he had first met North.

Sandy, distantly, hoped not.

However, the boy has already floated over, scared and hesitant, but so hopeful and Sandy doesn't wait for him to get up his courage.

Sandy reaches out and carefully hugged the boy.

The boy tenses for a moment and then he laughs brokenly, clinging tightly to Sandy. "You can hear me. You can see me," he sobbed out and Sandy nodded as the boy clung to him all the tighter.

Sandy let him and wondered how long the boy had been alone. He ran a careful hand through the boy's snow white hair and then carefully pulled back, even as the boy tried to hold him tighter before releasing enough so Sandy could lean back.

Sandy extended the sand cloud and patted it gently. The boy hopped up and Sandy rose into the air to continue his work, even as he gave a pile of sand and made a figure of a man. "Sandman?" the boy questioned and Sandy nodded brightly, ruffling the child's hair.

"I'm Jack Frost, or at least that's what the moon told me. I was born from the lake," Jack answered, voice excited and Sandy nearly stilled.

Oh, no.

Sandy sighed and looked up at the Moon with a slight glare.

Whatever the boy had done in life, it must have impressed Manny greatly for him to have expended so much energy to do what he had done.

Sandy, however, smiled and shook Jack's hand. He spent the rest of the night having the Winds swirling around them, enticing Jack to play and even freeze over his golden streams a bit. As the day began to break, and Sandy got a brief rest before he had to fly around the world to spread more golden dreams, Jack was put back together again. He was tired, but a good tired, and Sandy wished he could take him, but where he was going was hot.

Sandy carefully knelt down and gently tapped Jack's forehead. "Wha?" he questioned and looked up at Sandy.

Sandy showed him a sun and made waves rising from the ground. "Oh, you're going someplace hot?" Jack questioned and Sandy nodded.

Jack was better at deciphering then the rest of the Guardians combined.

Sandy found it rather amusing, but then, Jack seemed to love games. He had enjoyed playing with the streams, though he never pushed them off course, and the Winds settled patiently around them.

One evening following Jack and Sandy and they understood better than before what Jack needed. Sandy began to make shapes, explaining that, while they would be apart, Jack could always come to Sandy if he needed.

"So long as you are in a cold place, right?" Jack asked, and Sandy nodded sadly.

Jack smiled a bit, and then reached out, touching the golden stream. This time dolphins jumped out and Jack carefully caught one. He seemed to be talking to it and Sandy's eyes widened as Jack began to replicate it, the dolphin circling in a crescent until a dolphin of unmelting, opaque, ice matching the sand version sat in Jack's palm. Sandy stared at in awe and Jack held it out to him.

"Thank you," Jack stated and, before Sandy could even try to give anything back, Jack jumped off with a laugh.

Sandy rushed to the edge of the cloud, but saw the Wind already whisking Jack away, and the boy was laughing.

Sandy stared down at the dolphin and smiled before he reached up and carefully hid it in his hair.

It was a beautiful gift.

Maybe, next time he saw Jack, he would work on playing with the boy more.

With a smile, Sandy created a small, ish, dragon and began to fly across the globe to the next destination.

He had dreams to weave.


	2. The Four Winds

**One-Shot Summary: **But he was as free as they and the Four Winds loved the boy dearly. They just didn't know why.

* * *

Jack smiled as he raced along the wooden roof as silent as a snowflake.

It had been a week since meeting Sandman, and since, the Winds had been far more playful then before. While it still hurt, hurt with an agony that Jack couldn't handle before, the Winds were now quick to rush down and lift him up, spinning him away. They began to show him from place to place, cold front to cold front, racing and running across the skies and swirling around golden dream dust that spun lazily through the air, though Jack had yet to see the Sandman, he had a feeling that the small man made of gold who gleamed didn't need to be in a direct area, just a general one, to begin spreading out his golden sand.

That never stopped Jack from reaching out and touching it as he passed by on either the North or East Wind's back.

He knew the difference, knew who was who and which he could be with the longest (which was the North Wind), but they all came when he called for the Wind to take him home, because he was just asking for one, whichever one wanted to, to take him up and away from the ground, spinning and flying through the air as they propelled him along, though South could rarely do so, often spinning him off onto another's back.

Jack never minded, North being a constant companion while the others bustled about doing their other duties, though Jack had no idea of what they were.

He was just happy to ride on the back of the Wind that was with him for that moment, often making it snow in Canada, for Jack loved to make it snow in Canada, mostly because there were not a lot of people up there and it always seemed to make everyone happy, so long as it wasn't a blizzard.

For the rest of the year, and the turning of the Seasons, Jack noticed that South stayed with Summer, West stayed with Spring, and East with Autumn.

Armed with that knowledge, Jack knew that North was to help him, for he brought Winter, just like the other Winds helped the other Seasonal Spirits (for there had to be some, even if Jack never saw them).

He never thought of it as ownership, for they were there before him and far more free then he would ever be.

* * *

When Jack had been born from the lake and granted his abilities by the Man in the Moon, he had been made into the Spirit of Winter.

He had no need of belief to work his power, just like the other Seasonal Spirits had no need for it.

But, by being made into the Spirit of Winter, the North Wind was to come at his beck and call.

The North Wind, like the other three, was a free being, who hated the idea of ownership. So he was surprised when the child didn't call upon him, or demand anything from him.

North Wind, curious, had lifted him up and tried to help him, but he was old and he had never had anyone to carry before.

Jack Frost, the Winter Child, was an odd Season Spirit.

One by one, the other Winds had come as well, aiding the North Wind.

And one by one, they grew to love the boy, saddened that, as he was a being of Winter, both South and West Wind were too warm to carry him for long, often having to give him up into the hold of either North or East, though even East could not hold the boy indefinitely.

He was as free as they, and he played constantly, now that he had met the Sandman and had his heart healed from being walked through and not spoken to, and ignored.

The Winds loved this Boy of Winter and Fun.

But they did not know why.

None of them realized it was because he never saw himself as owner, controller, ruler, of the North Wind as the other Seasonal Spirits did.

He saw the North Wind as his helper, his friend, his companion.

But never his servant.


	3. One Year Ago Today

**Summary:** Jack is laughing as he spins through the air.

It was almost one year ago today that he was born from the lake.

* * *

Jack laughed as the North Wind began to pull him along, howling in his ears.

It had not taken long for the Winds to teach Jack their language, so he could call for help without any realizing that he was doing just that, though Jack had just found it fun to learn and he swooped around, listening to the Wind telling him of this and that, and how things had changed since the North Wind had first been brought into existence, though he could not tell Jack where he had been born, having long forgotten the place, he could remember a great many other things and Jack smiled as the Wind twisted around him.

He blinked a bit and aimed for a mountain top. "What was that?" he asked.

The North Wind hesitated and then repeated himself.

"It...I am going to be one year old next week?" Jack questioned and the North Wind responded affirmatively.

Jack leapt into the air with a laugh. "We have to tell Sandman!" he exclaimed.

North Wind bustled up happily around him and immediately set off for the Sandman's destination.

He should be over Scotland tonight, if the North Wind was right about his dates.

* * *

"Sandman!" Jack greeted cheerfully and Sandy looked up to see the boy coming in.

He immediately widened his cloud and Jack landed with ease. He settled next to Sandy and Sandy reached over, ruffling the boy's hair. The way he tensed slightly before relaxing told Sandy that Jack was still being walked through, but it was not weighing him down as it had when Sandy had met him.

He let a stream of sand trail over to Jack and curl around him, letting Jack play with it as he desired while Sandy focused on spreading the good dreams, glancing over on occasion to see that Jack was calling up various visions, horses, dolphins, and snowflakes, and the North Wind sung around them, though Sandy never knew what he was saying.

Once reassured that the streams were on course, Sandy immediately settled down to face Jack and jack beamed at him. "My first birthday is next week!" Jack exclaimed and Sandy blinked a bit.

And a question mark flew above his head.

Jack turned to the wind, which ruffled his hair and seemed to be whispering to him.

Sandy didn't know; he couldn't speak to the wind as Jack obviously could.

"Wind says that it is the day that everyone gives presents to the children, if they've got the time and the…resources," Jack stated and shrugged.

"Must happen every year for him to notice. North's not very observant of humans," Jack responded and laughed as the Wind shoved him in retaliation, though not hard enough to send him flying from the cloud.

Sandy smiled a bit, deciding to never inform North of that tidbit.

He wasn't sure how the Guardian of Wonder would handle knowing Jack Frost had been born on Christmas day from a lake.

He tapped Jack's hand to get his attention and the boy looked over at him eagerly. Sandy began to show symbols and Jack smiled. "Yeah, I can be at my home on my birthday!" he responded and Sandy grinned before he ruffled Jack's hair again.

This time, Jack did not tense, but leaned a little into the action. Sandy smiled a bit sadly and suddenly flurried up a few golden snowflakes. Jack startled at the movement and laughed. Sandy immediately smiled and flurried a few golden snowflakes into Jack's face. He blinked a bit and shook his head, sleepiness slowly overcoming him.

"Sandman, that was sneaky," Jack yawned out, even as he settled down on the golden cloud, clinging tightly to his staff and Sandman smiled at him.

He batted at the North Wind and made some images, ones that the North Wind probably agreed with as he backed down.

There was a time and place for play.

And Jack's eyes looked sunken, and while Sandy wanted nothing more than to bundle Jack up and take care of him for all of eternity, that would only hurt Jack in the long run.

Jack was as free as the Four Winds (and the sooner the other Seasonal Spirits learned that making demands of the Winds made them surly, the happier Sandy would be; he had to work around them when they were in a mood and they usually got into one when Seasonal Spirits got demanding) and keeping him caged would only hurt the boy. However Sandy could watch over him for a short time.

And feed him.

When was the last time the Winter Child had a meal anyway?

Sandy glanced at the boy and continued on his rounds, smiling a little at how the dreams twirled brightly through the air.

He could watch Jack, if only for a time.

* * *

Jack glanced around. "What so special about this place Wind?" he questioned.

It was his birthday and he had wanted to go home, to his lake in the forest, when the Wind said he wanted to show him something.

Something wondrous.

Jack, always curious, had agreed at that small prodding. Now here, he had no idea if this was really all that…

Jack stopped dead when he saw the great building rising out of the snow and wind. It filled him with a sense of childish wonderment.

Not that surprising; he was only one after all.

He immediately took off towards the building and the North Wind pushed him up. Jack immediately began to circle the busy building. There was bustling activity, and he spun around slightly. He grinned a bit as he watched the great fluffy beings began to lumber around, working on things. Small creatures with bells on their hats ran around being annoyances and he hovered at the window, eyes watching.

He pulled back at North Wind's tugging and jumped onto his back before racing to what had to be a stables. He peeked in, but it was empty. Glancing around he crept in, wondering what lived here normally, but the Wind didn't seem concerned by their absence.

Jack traced the scribbles on the stall doors, frowning a little. "Do you think Sandman will teach me to read?" he asked and the Wind questioned his desire to read.

"Might be useful," Jack retorted and the Wind was noncommittal.

The Winds had no desire to learn more about humans, or other Spirits that weren't Jack really, then they had to. The scribbles could stay just that, scribbles.

They were unimportant.

Jack rolled his eyes at the Wind and followed his tug back outside. Swirling around the building until they came to a door. He blinked at it and Wind urged him to knock. Jack twisted to glare at his invisible companion and the Wind just encouraged him to do so.

"If I get walked through, you get to explain yourself to Sandman," Jack stated and, hesitantly, reached up and knocked.

The door opened and one of the tall wooly things answered the door. He blinked and wheeled back when it glared down at him. "You…you can see me?" he questioned.

A year of only being seen by Sandman and the Four Winds and it made him reel that someone else did.

The being just stared down at him like he was insane. "Sorry…not used to being seen. Um…what is this place?" he asked and the being stared at him and then turned him around carefully urging him away.

"What, why do I have to go?" he demanded.

It grunted at him and shooed him away before shutting the door.

Jack stared at the door, feeling as if something had just been stolen from him. The Wind settled around him apologetically, but Jack waved him off, the hide cloak fluttering around him with the Wind's encouragement. "No, no. Not your fault. I think, my dear friend, we have found a new game to play!" Jack stated, swallowing down the pain with the thought of _fun_.

The Wind perked up.

"It's called, 'Let's Break In'," he stated and the Wind swirled around him excitedly, a child instead of an ancient being that lived for far longer than Jack.

He laughed and jumped up onto the Wind's back. "Not today, however. Home?" he questioned.

The Wind sulked, but immediately rushed to obey, racing away and to the small lake.

It was still light when they landed and Jack immediately twirled around the frozen lake, causing frost ferns to grow, curling away from his bare feet. He was still twirling around, playing with the Wind, as night fell.

He barely noticed until a golden stream twirled around him.

Jack laughed and looked up to find Sandman there, on his cloud, and Jack flew up, landing. He didn't stop himself as he hugged the smaller spirit, who hugged Jack back, filling the Child of Winter with joy. The North Wind whistled around them before pulling up, going to play amongst the stars while Jack relaxed on the cloud, Sandman lifting up. He immediately settled next to Jack and urged him to sit up.

Jack did, leaning forward eagerly, only to start in surprise as Sandman placed a gift wrapped in brown paper in front of him. He looked down at it and looked up at Sandman, who urged him to open it. Jack hesitated and then carefully unwrapped it.

Lying on the paper was a snowflake made of golden dream sand. He carefully lifted it into his hands, noting that it was large enough to see every small detail, but still seemed small within his palm. Under the golden snowflake were some rawhide laces and he could see how they could be tied around the top of the snowflake to make a necklace, so it would always be safe. He looked up at Sandman in amazement and then back down at the gift.

He carefully lifted it up and tied it around his neck, feeling his body naturally coat it with frost and he smiled before he threw himself at Sandman, hugging him tightly.

Sandman hugged him back and Jack could not be happier, the gift and the feeling of acceptance washing away the bitter disappointment of being turned away from the wondrous place in the north, hidden away in an impossible place.

"I didn't get you anything," Jack stated as he released the Sandman, who merely shook his head.

His forehead furrowed in confusion and Sandman made a series of images.

One was Jack, followed by a present, and then the symbols he had used to explain Christmas with an 'x' over them.

"You…you are celebrating my birthday, not Christmas?" he questioned and Sandman nodded.

Jack smiled and looked away. "Still didn't get you any…," he trailed off and carefully brought the golden snowflake up.

"But I could," he stated and focused.

He called up the ice and the frost that was a much a part of him as the sand was of Sandman. The golden snowflake gleamed and shimmered as Jack began to replicate the snowflake, creating the only identical one in all of time.

He felt it fight him, felt the ice and frost protest, but he gently urged it along, explaining the need as gently as he could, and soon a replica snowflake was in his hand. He hesitated, unsure of how it would be taken and then held it out. Sandman startled slightly and then smiled gently taking it.

"Merry Christmas Sandman," Jack stated and Sandman smiled warmly before he hugged Jack again.

Jack hugged him back.

It was the best first birthday Jack could have ever had.

* * *

**A/N:** I got permission to use the golden snowflake and ice snowflake that are matching from Twisted Skys's Invisible. The chapter is titled 'Golden Snowflake'.

Also, Sandman keeping the dolphin in his hair came from her, only with her it was the snowflake. I did not get permission to use that, but I did borrow it from the writer. I meant to put that disclaimer in the previous chapter, but I forgot. I hope Twisted Skys forgives me.


	4. A New Game

**Summary:** A week after Jack's first birthday and he's starting a new game.

* * *

Jack landed soundlessly onto the stable roof and the North Wind, with the Eastern Wind, curled around him excitedly. The Eastern Wind had wanted to come when he heard what Jack was going to do and was practically jubilant with the idea of finding a place to break Jack in.

"No actually _breaking_ anything. That's no fun," Jack answered and the Winds pouted a bit at the direct order, but Jack shot them a look.

"I know I don't usually, but if there's glass everywhere, and you two lift me up, I could get injured. I think. I have no idea if I can get injured or not," he explained and the Winds huffed and sighed before agreeing not to _actually_ break anything.

Jack grinned and he began to move around, jumping down onto the far side. He grinned at all the snow and carefully packed it up into a ball, tossing it idly. He glanced around, and saw the big furry thing that had shooed him away a week ago. He considered the snowball and, with a mischievous grin, hefted it up and threw it at the creature, the Wind immediately taking him up and hiding him on the snowy roof once more.

The creature spun around with a growl sound and looked around, eyes searching, but never up. Jack hunkered down and watched with a grin as he returned to wandering around. Jack glanced around and then began to make another ball of snow.

The Winds hesitated.

Wouldn't now be a good time to try and break in?

"Why, when I have a playmate that can see me?" Jack questioned and the two Winds perked up.

Jack had taken to playing with the children and, as they couldn't see him, it didn't hurt as much as the Winds had feared.

But, certainly, having a playmate that could see you would be a bonus.

They carefully lifted him up and down to the ground and Jack began to stalk after the creature. With a grin, he blew on the snowball and threw it, leaping up and onto the Wind's back as he lifted him in the air with a laugh. The creature rounded and looked up, yelling at him in a language that Jack couldn't understand. "Awww, come on! It is all in good fun!" Jack called down and the creature began to chase after him.

Jack laughed and swooped away, heading for the rocky area.

And the creature followed.

Later, when Jack had worn himself out and retreated to sleep, he couldn't remember a time when he had more fun.

It really was better to play with someone who could see him.

Just as well.

Any game worth playing had opposition.


	5. How Not to Break Into a Workshop

**Summary: **Jack is trying to break in.

He learns how not to do it.

* * *

Jack sighed as he closed his eyes.

Spring had come for the Northern half of the world and Autumn clung relentlessly to the Southern half. So, he was hiding in the freezing cold of the snows that constantly surrounded the wondrous workshop.

He was tired and he was feeling oddly lonely.

It might have been because, right before he rushed off to hide until Winter was called for the Southern hemisphere (not that he had much to do there most of the time and he mostly kept to the South Pole), he had tried playing with the children. Reaching out for them, begging for them to see him, hear him, _anything_, even if it was just to yell at him, strike him, make him go away.

He sighed and settled more into the snow, closing his eyes in false contentment.

He had tried sleeping in a tree, but it sort-of hurt and it was often uncomfortable, if it was the wrong sort of tree.

He _could_, but he didn't like to. So, he often found a nice deep snow bank, buried his way in, and settled in.

He could use his frost abilities to make sure there were air holes and he could go to sleep peacefully, not worrying about waking up mid-fall from a tree.

That had happened before and was the main reason he was settling into the snow bank somewhere above the workshop.

He wasn't burying himself in, however, because there was a small blizzard blowing around and it would cover him eventually. The North Wind had settled, though the East Wind was twisting around.

And whining a bit.

It was never a good sign, really, when the East Wind whined.

Jack sighed softly. "East, can we talk later? I kind-of stayed too long and Spring came through, chasing me out. I'm tired and aching, so it would really appreciate it if you quieted down. Just a bit. Tired," he stated and closed his eyes and East apologized before rushing off to go rattle the windows.

Jack smiled a bit and then frowned briefly, laughed quietly as the North Wind blew some snow in his face to restore his good mood.

Now relaxing, and safe, in the snow, Jack began to ponder what had happened this year.

It was the first time he had ever over stayed anything and Spring, whose real name he didn't know, just shooed him out, though not as nicely as she could have, in Jack's opinion when it really was just a mistake on his part, not him trying to wreck her season.

She was pretty though, all green and with flowing robes and followed by a giant stag, who had eyed Jack as if he wasn't sure what to do about him.

Jack had left, however, as quick as possible, but it had been hard.

Overstaying meant that Mother Nature herself had started to turn the tides, and Jack figured if there was a Man in the Moon, there had to actually be a Mother Nature.

Just, once again, he had never Mother Nature.

And he hadn't meet Spring till now.

Why did the West Wind not like her anyway?

Jack huffed and settled more into the snow.

He would ask later.

Right now, he was going to nap and plan how to break into the workshop below.

* * *

Jack settled on the balls of his feet, East and North Wind twisting around him, howling to the skies, and rattling the windows. He leaned forward and, with a whoop, jumped off, swirling up and catching the breeze easily as they sailed around, Jack landing soundlessly on the roof. He carefully inched along the roof until he got to the window.

He leaned over, frowning slightly as it frosted over slightly, something that had been increasing in frequency lately. He huffed and balanced, peeking around the frost on the windows to eye the hustle and bustle inside. He shifted his weight and grinned before he stood up, easily swooping over and around. He landed on the roof above an empty room. He peered in and smiled before he swung over, balancing on the windowsill, holding his staff. He carefully reached out with his staff, the Winds quivering around him, and concentrated.

The ice grew out, thin and sharp, yet strong and he gently twitched it up, the lock flipping up and over. Jack grinned and carefully worked the window open before he hopped in, ice growing and spreading like spider webs from where his feet and his staff touched the wood floor. He glanced around, noticing that the room was chilled and he wondered why it was here. He glanced around, but it was empty, the fireplace, stone, cold and he touched it, watching in fascination as a new spread of frost climbed up, racing up and he grinned, immediately fascinated with his game while the two winds flowed in and out of the room and around, carefully not to make the window rattle too much to alert to it being open.

Jack eventually stopped making ice forms and he turned, facing the door, silently slipping over. He crouched down and carefully, hesitantly, opened the door and peeked out. Warm air hit him and he winced back, flinching at the unfamiliar feeling, but the East Wind slipped out and began to spread the autumn cool through the top floor. Jack shifted and glanced around the hallway before he carefully stepped out, looking around.

More ice spread out and Jack walked on, calm and quiet as he began to focus on listening. There was a voice, thick with an accent that shouted from below, but mostly white noise. Jack began to walk forward cautiously, because if the weird fluffy being could see him, and hear him (and, even if it had shooed him away, that made Jack feel giddy), he was pretty sure that others could too.

Jack smiled, the ice trail curling behind him and marking his entry point as he worked his way through the hallway.

However, there was a growl sound of surprise from behind him and Jack tensed. With a jump, he spun around to find that the furry creature that he had played with before was staring at him. "Whoops," Jack stated and took off.

Ice formed before him, making an ice track while the Winds pushed him along. He knew what he was doing and so did they. He breathed out and the East wind blasted him back, twisting around the yeti that had been chasing him.

However, the being had much faster reflexes then Jack was expecting, as it grabbed him. "Whoa!" he exclaimed and jerked slightly as the great, lumbering, creature grunted at him.

Jack stared up at him, feeling himself getting dragged along and frowned. "I don't understand you, sorry."

The creature garbled at him, and Jack huffed.

For all he knew, this guy was insulting him.

However, he wasn't upset that he had been caught.

That was part of the game.

He tried to get into the workshop (upper floors and empty rooms did not count) and he had to dodge his playmate.

There had to be a winner and there had to be a loser, and Jack just wanted to have fun and it was fun, even when he got caught, because it was unexpected.

Also, the fluffy thing had his staff, having taken it from him, and Jack sighed, hoping that the creature didn't rip his cape.

There was no way for him to get another, after all. No one except this this thing and Sandman could see him to give him things.

The creature opened the back door and began walking through the snow, heading for the mountain range. Jack groaned a bit and waited.

Eventually they got to the rise and the fluffy creature dropped him. Jack yelped and then laughed as he fell into the snow. The creature handed him back his staff and then pointed away before lumbering back.

Jack still laughed and the Winds curled around him, checking him over. "I'm fine you two! You're worse then Sandman," Jack stated and the Winds just spun around him wildly.

With a laugh, Jack jumped up and they took him away.

The next day, the door Jack had entered through was locked.

Jack frowned a bit, but pulled back and began to make great frost designs, shoving the hurt away with fun.

If he didn't have fun in the face of adversity, he'd just give up.

Hide in the cold and ice and never leave again, not even to play with the Winds.

And what kind of friend would do that to his friends?

So, he took off and began to search out a new place to enter from.

* * *

The next place wasn't the best, but it was unexpected.

There was a loose spot under the awning. A hole in the roof essentially.

It was small and narrow, but Jack was thin. He was thin at his birth and his lack of regular meals (he was lucky if he could eat once or twice a week and he wasn't going to be stealing from the mouths of children; he was a basically immortal spirit and they were not) and, if he worked on it, he could get through.

Well, if he removed his cloak and was very carefully, he could get through, having to first slip the hand with his staff, and holding his cloak, through before he pulled himself through.

The Winds didn't like him going this way, but he was in and back dressed. He smiled, ice growing up and around him in a room filled with boxes. He glanced around curiously, cautiously and began to peek into them. They were filled with toys. There were scribbles on the sides and he huffed. "See? If I could _read_, I would know what this says," he hissed at the Winds, who merely huffed at him in return.

This time, when he slid over to the door, there was a lot of noise. He hesitated and then settled down to wait, a white and brown figure in the shadows. He was there for a long time and, eventually, he heard the silence stretch. He perked up and inched forward.

He tested the door and then opened it. He glanced around as much as the narrow opening would allow him and he carefully inched it open. He peeked out more and glanced around before he slipped out, carefully sliding into the hallway, the silence pressing.

He turned and only to find the same creature from before staring down at him in what could be rage.

Jack sighed softly as he was grabbed and hauled off, back through the another door and taken to the edge of the 'property' before being dumped into the snow.

This time Jack had kept up a running commentary and still laughed as he was dropped into the snow.

* * *

Jack spent the rest of the middle ground searching for ways to get in. Windows, chimneys, doors, holes in the roof, trying to sneak in through the stables and the hole in the ground he discovered that seemed to be a tunnel for something.

At each turn, he ran into the strange creature and Jack, despite being blocked at every turn by either that strange creature, and, occasionally, another, he found it fun. He was pitting himself against another, and trying to sneak in.

It was more about journey then the end anyway.

The Winds were a comfort and Jack couldn't find Sandman, so he was settling for this.

When the North Wind began to whisper of a cold snap in the Southern Hemisphere, Jack was up and away, the North Wind carrying him.

There was always the next interlude.

* * *

Jack laughed and twirled through the air as he returned to the workshop.

It had grown some since he had last been there, but he was ready to see what was new.

And besides, he had until the Southern Winter to find new ways to break in.

Around him, all four Winds sang eagerly.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Should I post what year it is in the summary or is it okay the way it is?


	6. The Bells of Our Lady

**Summary:** Jack goes to a place he's never been before.

He thinks he can hear the most beautiful sound in the world there.

* * *

Jack sighed as he flew across the sea and toward the countries he rarely visited, having usually stayed close to home, but the North Wind wanted to show him more places of snow and laughter and beauty, and Jack could never say 'no' to the North Wind. So off they were, skimming the waves and Jack laughing at the way the freezing water splashed up, even if when the water splashed his face, he stilled for a moment, as if expecting something horrible to happen, but he was often quickly distracted until he never noticed that sudden stilling, that tendril of fear that curled through him.

It didn't stay long, however, as they were up and away, his bare feet racing across the waves and then into the air on the Wind's back, racing along. Up a river that was surrounded by a city and toward an island that had a great building, a cathedral, with two towers that rose into the sky and he felt the Wind pick up speed, racing him towards the top.

Jack laughed as he felt himself nearly being slammed into the cold grey stone, but he didn't care and then he was on the top of the northern tower. He laughed and spun, frost springing from his feet and where his staff touched the ground. It curled out and spread.

And then, the bells began to toll.

Jack gasped as he felt the vibrations rise up through his feet, the music tolling out.

It rose into the air, seeming to shimmer visibly in front of him, and almost seemed to rumble through his chest, making it ache slightly and he laughed, feeling the music sound out around him.

And, for no reason Jack could explain, he began to cry, snowflakes lifting off and swirling away into the Wind, who curled around him worriedly, but Jack shook his head.

And the Wind, probably for the first time in a long time, knew exactly how Jack felt.


	7. Balancing Act

**Summary: **Jack Frost learns how to perch on his staff.

* * *

Jack Frost eyed his staff curiously, using some of his magic to make it stand perfectly straight in the middle of the frozen lake that was his home.

Today was his fourth birthday and he wanted to try something so he could practice and then impress Sandman later.

He was always trying something new with his powers, usually so he could play with the children (and really, anyone else who wanted to play, he wasn't picky, he just prefered to play with the children) and, as such, he had yet to find something he _couldn't_ do, except use the snow to travel by.

Oh well.

The North Wind was always happy to carry him though and, this way, he didn't have to think of any place, he could just ask the North Wind to take him someplace fun, and he was usually accomidated. Sometimes the North Wind just took him racing along the air currents and other times he was just dumped into the snow near the workshop that was owned by the weird guy with the thick accent and where Jack could play with the strange creature (a yeti, as it turned out). That was, of course, fun, but sometimes Jack didn't want the sharp, harsh, reminder that the only things that could see him were the yetis.

And Sandman.

Sandman who Jack didn't get to see often.

Who Jack was missing, but Jack wouldn't tell Sandman that.

Jack didn't want Sandman to feel guilty.

However, Sandman had yet to miss a birthday, so Jack was reassured that he woul be seeing the dream-maker soon.

So, with that, Jack grinned and focused on his staff, the North Wind curling around him curiously.

Jack shifted and twitched and held onto the staff.

He had seen something when they went farther east then normal, of a man balancing on sticks. Climbing up them in fact.

It had been fascinating to watch and he wondered how the man had done it without falling down, but he figured that it was through continious motion.

He was pretty sure that if the guy had stopped or showed fear, he would have fallen.

But it gave Jack an idea.

What if he could perch on his staff?

Ice it into the ground and then just…perch on it.

It would be amusing, to say the least, and if he could learn to do it on the fly, he could spin up onto it.

He would first just have to work on figuring out how to do it.

He held onto the staff and focused on making it stronger, infusing it with ice and he felt the staff _grow_ in strength under his hands. He carefully gripped the curl and pressed his bare foot against the base.

He then pushed up, trying to run up the staff…only to fall backwards having flipped himself off it.

"Ow," he groaned while the North Wind whistled around him in concern as Jack rubbed the back of his head, slowly getting back up.

"Okay, that wasn't the best plan I ever had," he stated and the North Wind huffed at him.

He eyed the staff and made sure it was strong again before thinking.

He then grabbed the top of the hook, braced his feet…and began to climb. It was odd, and it hurt his feet a little, but he was on the top. He grinned a bit, even as he wobbled and eventually he managed to find a balance, perched on the staff.

"Okay, this wasn't as fun as I thought it was going to be. Can you give me a lift down?" he asked of the North Wind.

He yelped as the Wind blew him off and into a snowbank and Jack laughed.

He then stood up and continued to laugh as the Wind pushed him back again.

Soon, they were chasing each other around as the staff remained in the center of the pond, a frosted beacon that caught the golden light of Sandman's dream sand.

It was then that Jack slowed to a stop, despite the wind's pulling.

Jack frowned and looked around, but only the light greeted him with the nightly noises.

He stared at the darkness and then glided forward, towards his staff, the North Wind following him slowly. "Sorry Wind. I'm tired," he whispered, feeling…disappointed, maybe?

Jack blinked up in surprise as a snow began to fall, swirling around him. He looked around, blinking a bit and jumped when he heard something clatter. He looked down and stared in surprise as ice drops began hitting the frozen lake.

He reached up and touched his face, only to find frozen tear tracks.

And ice falling like tears.

"But…but I cry snowflakes!" he exclaimed.

But the answer came, as easily and gently as it always did with North Wind.

He cried snowflakes when he was _happy_.

And he was far from that now.

Jack sighed and grabbed the staff. It easily released itself from the ice and he walked over to the snowbank, the light snow still falling. He settled into the snowbank, making sure his staff was in his grip and settled into the bank, the top of the hook touching the base of the tree and creating a frost pattern. And with that, Jack curled up tightly in the snow and fell asleep, the silent snow slowly covering him, though it curled oddly as it hit his staff, giving him breathing holes without his concious need to do so.

It was hours, near midnight, when Sandy came.

He looked around fruitlessly for Jack, but saw only shadows and darkness.

He sighed and covered his face in shame.

New moons were always hard on the Guardians and they often had to focus entirely on their jobs or they got jittery.

They disliked not being able to find Manny so easily and it set them on edge.

It wasn't till late when Sandy realized that he had not seen Jack today. He had flown, as fast as he could go, to the lake, but Jack was not here.

The North Wind watched the Sandman cautiously, knowing he was the, indirect, cause of Jack's pain.

Too bad the Sandman did not know the Winds' language.

North would have told…

The North Wind silenced his thoughts as he watched the Sandman build an igloo, hidden in the snowdrifts by placing his sand under the snow, hiding himself from view and the North Wind settled.

He'd tell Jack in the morning.

For now, he would let the Winter Child sleep.


	8. A Brush With Death (Warnings Within)

**Warnings:** This is a death fic. It has a death in it. It has MULTIPLE deaths in it, actually. Actually, the deaths are just mentioned, we don't see them. And there is someone having a slight (understatement) psychological break down, and it is very dark. It is an angst sundae, with angst syrup, and angst sprinkles, with a tiny, germ sized dollop of fluff whipped cream on top, because that was the only way I was going to be able to write this.

I have warned you.

**Summary:** Not everything is in Jack's control.

He sometimes just wishes it could be.

* * *

Jack woke up slightly, noticing that there was a three inch layer over him in the snow and he sat up, the snow falling off of him. He looked around and began to shift and move, rising out of the snow, staff in hand.

The North Wind ruffled his hair in greeting and Jack leaned against his staff listlessly.

The North Wind cooed at him worriedly.

"You think Sandman will come this year?" he asked softly and the North Wind hesitated.

Jack's fourth birthday had been the first birthday of Jack's Sandman had ever missed. While he had been there the next morning, it had not changed the fact that he had not been there on Jack's birthday, but Jack had been so happy the next morning, when he saw Sandman waiting, surprised by him rising up out of the snow, that he nearly crushed the smaller spirit in his hug.

But now Jack was doubting that Sandman would be there.

It hadn't helped that, for some reason, this year, Jack could not get his spirits up, not even when he ran all the way to France (he learned this by actually paying attention to what the adults were saying) to go listen to the bells.

And because of it, the winter had been harsh and the children were shivering and scared and Jack…Jack tried.

He tried to elevate it, tried to have fun, tried to push away all his dark thoughts and his sad feelings. Swallow it all down with the fun, push it all away, and leave it all behind.

But this year, he just couldn't seem to and the odd creature who he played with always got more agitated with Jack the closer it got to Jack's birthday, so he knew going up there would be no good.

Jack had no idea why, and Sandman had always put off explaining, promising that he would, but usually when Jack was with Sandman, he just wanted to be near someone who would just ruffle his hair and smile at him and hug him, even if Jack would tense, because he did not get it often enough, or just spend time with him.

Explanations could wait.

They always could, when it came to him and he groaned a bit covering his face.

The Wind tugged at him, and he looked up and into the rising dawn.

With a sigh he shook himself off, sending snow flying everywhere and grinned, but it was forced.

The North Wind tugged at his cloak, which was starting to get worn, and Jack nodded in agreement.

Fun.

He needed to have fun, and lots of it.

Jack grit his teeth and jumped up, leaping into the air, and onto the North Wind's back, flying away. Loops and laughter and Jack raced through the wind. They raced over the mountains, and Jack decided to run a bit along the edge, running and running.

He laughed with the win and spun around.

He laughed as the wind carried him away and, for a moment, everything was fine.

But when he decided to try and play with the yetis, he didn't even get close to the building.

It was the first time he hadn't even slipped in.

Jack Frost had no idea how common occurrence that would become in the future.

For now, dumped in the snow at their border and unable to pull forth a laugh, because this time, this time it hurt, it hurt too deep and too sharply, for him to just laugh it off. He stood shakily and watched the creatures, yetis he overheard one day, though he couldn't recall the voice, or face, that said it. But he was sure they were called yetis.

He stood, watching them abandon him and he closed his eyes.

"Wind, take me home?" he asked softly.

The wind was reluctant, but obeyed.

And Jack lifted off, flying away.

Stabbed his staff into the lake and balanced on the crook. The North Wind pushed him gently and Jack laughed softly, if brokenly.

"No, it's okay. I'll be there in a minute. Just…just need to get my bearings, okay?" he stated and the North Wind curled around him, an eternal presence in an otherwise lonely life.

Jack closed his eyes and clung to it tightly, ignoring the way he swayed lightly on his staff. He then grinned and jumped off, landing. He collected his staff and made sure to freeze the lake flawlessly so there was never a sign that it had been there at all.

Jack swung his staff over his shoulders, arms over the staff, and he began to walk with a smile, pretending it didn't hurt when no animals reacted to him. They looked past him or, worse, walked through him like the children and everyone else did.

However, the day was clear and, even with the snow piled high, the kids were coming out, peeking out and staring. It was hard, and he stared down at the nearest child. "I am sorry you know," he stated.

The kid did not respond, but the snowball fight was considered one of the greatest Jack had ever started with the children near his home.

* * *

He heard a whistle and Jack turned around.

It was February and Jack was startled to see a groundhog on top of the snow. "Will you stop starin' like a slack-jawed moron and git over here?" he demanded, and Jack immediately went over to him, kneeling before the creature who was half coated with snow and glaring at Jack like he wanted to gnaw the boy's face off.

He'd worry about the rather large, talking, groundhog that was glaring at him later.

Maybe he should get Sandman to explain things soon.

They had been celebrating his birthday when lights had appeared in the sky, a beautiful hue and Sandman had shot up in shock. Jack knew those lights meant _something_, but he would never be able to tell anyone what it meant.

By now, he figured that it meant something bad had happened.

"Nice Spirit, better then Autumn anyway. Admittedly, I only herd Spring and Winter, but only when you two need it. You got a good head on your shoulders and Spring was early, you weren't late, so don't you worry about that thing. I ain't mad at ya. I'm mad at a certain Pooka. Blasted, buck-toothed, hare," the Groundhog growled out and began to mutter unsavory things in a language Jack didn't understand.

"You need me for something?" Jack questioned and the groundhog startled.

"Right. Something grabbed Spring. She's not going to be able to get here in time. Mother Nature can start the turn, but not enough, so Summer has to take over. There's just one small problem with that," he explained and huffed, shifting his weight slightly.

Jack waited and the groundhog sighed.

"Mother Nature's sorry about this Jack. She knows it goes against everything you are, but…you need to make it storm. You need to make a snowstorm that hasn't been seen before and will probably never happen again. It needs to be cold, it needs to be thick, and it needs to be horrible. She's real sorry about this. But…Summer will crack the world if you don't," the Groundhog explained, but Jack already felt as if a pit had formed in his stomach.

He had never met Mother Nature, she wasn't even asking him herself.

She had sent _someone else_ to tell him he had to make the children he played with _fear_ him.

This was going to kill people.

He had never knowingly, or intentionally, caused deaths before.

Why…why would Mother Nature, who he never met, who never reached out to him, ask him to become a murderer?

"Jack?" the groundhog called.

"Summer will crack the earth?" he questioned, already knowing his choice.

"Yeah. She's got too much heat and autumn can't do it. She's not for growing things anymore then you are. Well, you do got the holly and such. But you can't grow crops and only certain crops are ripe for autumn, sometimes. It's complicated, but if the world is too warm…Summer's gonna kill a lot more people than these snowstorms," the Groundhog explained.

The North Wind hummed and Jack sagged.

"Okay," he whispered and stood up.

He…he could turn this into a game.

It would be one without any fun however.

"You better go. I have to get started if I want to get enough build up," Jack stated and jumped into the air, the Wind carrying him away.

The first storm hit four days later, focused mainly near his home.

It was the place that he could pull the most strength from, even as he spread the cold of winter across the northern hemisphere. He focused on the cold and the dark below, ignoring the cries of children, because Sandman's golden streams could not come to them now.

For the first time, Jack could not make it a game.

So, instead, he went to where he had swallowed down all those negative emotions.

They were sharp and painful, and they cut Jack's soul a bit as he handled them.

He had swallowed them down, brushed them away.

But they stayed anyway, altering how he stood, always out of the way, above, or even balancing on his staff, as he discovered that people began to automatically move around it, never sure why, and he allowed the dark thought he never allowed to form out.

"If you will not believe in me, you will at least _fear_ me," he hissed and unleashed his pain on the world.

Because it was the only thing he could think to do.

* * *

It burned out days later.

Houses were covered over the chimneys in some areas. Under the snow, Jack could sense the dead livestock, or the dead people that had gotten caught, either here or out in the wilderness.

He could sense it all, and he was drained.

He could hear muffled crying from the houses, and he knew that the children would be plagued by nightmares for years to come.

There would be no snowball fights any more, or laughter as the snows began, and cries of how Christmas was coming and that Father Christmas would soon be there.

That was another thing that Jack had always meant to ask Sandman about.

Father Christmas.

Not that he would be able to ask Sandman now.

The golden dream maker wouldn't want talk to him anymore, or want to be around him anymore, now that Jack had done what he had just done.

He was exhausted, and drained, and Jack winced as the first heat of Summer, however, distant, touched him.

The North Wind tugged at his cloak, a thing in tatters now.

Odd, he hadn't even noticed it being torn to shreds when he was allowing his rage to consume him.

The snowflake was still there, though.

It was glinting gold in the sunlight and he was tempted to rip it from him, unworthy of the gift, but he could not bear to part with it, the last thing that Sandman would probably ever give him.

Jack looked up then, leaning heavily on his staff, the only thing that was making an impression in the snow. He closed his eyes, sagging against the staff, and the North Wind tugged some more at him. "Where to Wind?" he murmured, exhausted and feeling as if his bones were ripped apart.

He jumped into the wind and he was carried off, clinging tightly to his staff.

Besides, he was pretty sure it was going to be down to yetis that didn't like him and the Winds after Sandman learned what he had done.

* * *

The cave was cold and made up almost entirely of ice. The snow was around in piles and in the back, Jack huddled, rocking back and forth, clinging to his head, his staff abandoned out of reach.

His memories, so foggy at the end of his days long torment of the world (whether on Mother Nature's request or not, he did not care, he had done it anyway) had come rushing back when he slept.

And now he would not, no matter how much his body demanded it now.

He had screamed and raged at the North Wind, walled him out by using the last reserves of his energy to freeze himself into the cave he had found.

And he mourned the children that were lost, and the parents, and the future children that would be lost because of the livestock and deer that had died.

Of the trees that were grazed from the top most branches, and fields that were going to be muddy ponds, useless for anything.

He clung to his head, and remembered the quivers of terror he could somehow hear over the howling of the North Wind.

He did not know how long he was awake, or how long ago the North Wind had finally stopped screaming at the ice, trying to break in.

He did not know if the ice was always creaking lowly like that, or if it was just his imagination.

His chest hurt and he felt like he needed to claw his eyes out because they _burned_, and he didn't think he could ever feel this way, and he couldn't breathe through his nose and…

He did not imagine it when he heard the ice shatter and crash.

He flinched back and away, scrambling away, but never reaching for the staff.

And then a hand, small and familiar, ruffled his hair and he looked up.

And Sandman was there, eyes concerned, worried.

"But…but…I killed people. What I've done…I'm going to kill _more_ people," Jack stated, trying to tell Sandman what he had done, and his chest was hurting.

But Sandman just hugged him. Hugged him tightly, as if he was afraid that Jack was going to disappear and Jack clung to Sandman, curling around him and began to sob.

Deep, broken hearted, sobs that were ripped from his chest, and ice crystals fell, scattering around and chiming lightly while the North Wind slowly entered, billowing in softly.

Jack clung and sobbed until he was worn out. And then a golden stream wrapped around him and Jack fell into a welcome oblivion of a golden castle on an ocean, hidden by ice, and surrounded by weird whale/dolphin creatures with spiral horns coming out of their faces.

* * *

When Sandy had been told that, 'that Winter Spirit's gone nuts' days ago, he had been confused.

Jack was such an easy going child. He loved to have fun and he had a deep desire to be seen, to be loved, like the other Guardians, though Sandy knew that Jack had no idea that the other Guardians existed.

It wasn't until Mother Nature had told the Guardians what, exactly, was happening that Sandy had become frightened.

And angry.

He didn't actually remember the last time he had gotten so angry, but he remembered flying up into Mother Nature's face, golden sand swirling around him into whips subconsciously, and things flying too fast for even _him_ to comprehend over his head as he yelled at her the only way he knew how for calling on Jack for such a thing.

She could have had Autumn make an unnaturally cold winter. Autumn was a snappy spirit, she could have handled the deaths that would come from this choice. Summer was unrelenting, but fond of the people, and even Bunny could have helped in his own way.

Anyone but Jack.

Mother Nature, however, understood.

Mother Nature wilted slightly under Sandy's onslaught and it took Tooth grabbing him and pulling him back to calm him down.

And then Sandy had gone to find his (because yes, Jack was his, in a very abstract sense, but he was _family_, he was part of _Sandy's_ family) Jack.

Spring was recovering, everything would be fine.

Everything, that is, except Jack.

And, using the golden dream sand he had given Jack, Sandy began to track him.

And now, here he was, holding a broken Jack.

A broken, shattered, Jack that he had held together, somehow, and had sent into a peaceful dream.

"How is he?" a voice, female, asked, and Sandy carefully settled Jack onto a cloud of golden dream sand, leaving him to be encircled by his constant friend before he rushed over to glare at Mother Nature.

She sighed and looked away.

She did not need his dream sand pictures to know what he said.

It was the gift the Man in the Moon gave her, putting her in equal power to him.

Of everyone, Sandy felt that it was more of a curse, putting her at such equal strength, but letting her keep her past self.

But then again, she might have hated them all if she ever discovered her stolen memories.

She, of all, knew how valuable memories of the life before this one could be.

Not even Tooth, Guardian of Memory, would ever fully understand it.

Sandy sighed and floated back over to Jack, who looked a bit better then when Sandy had found him. "I'm sorry," she stated and Sandy gave her a look before he settled on the cloud, ignoring the bite of the cold the North Wind brought with him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Sandy answered and she stared. "Will…will you contact me when he's healed?" she asked.

Sandy nodded and, with that, flew off.

Mother Nature, Sandy knew, would feel guilty.

But, when Jack forgave her (and Sandy was sure he would) and learned that maybe all was not as bad as he had worked himself up to believe, the guilt would leave her.

She was too weighted by sorrow to truly hold onto guilt for as long as it should remain.


	9. A Golden Castle in Moonlight Frost

**Warnings:** It is still dark, just not as dark as the last part, but it sort-of directly follows it.

**Summary:** There is a castle, hidden among the ice and snow, built of golden sand. It was not there before and, when the purpose of the castle is through, it will not be there after. It has but one purpose; to be a safe haven of healing.

And until that healing is done, the castle shall stay standing, hidden in the ice and snow. And, no matter how hard one would look, unless the exact location was known, it would never be found.

* * *

Sandy glances into the room that is Jack's, built into the snow and ice itself instead of just being of golden sand, and smiles in relief to see Jack sleeping peacefully in the bed, before he frowns down at the destroyed cloak, cape, thing.

It is in tatters and not even North's elves would be able to fix it. He carefully ran his fingers over the tatters and looked up, even as Jack slept peacefully on.

It was rare now that he slept calmly because, even if Sandy fought against Pitch Black, nightmares were needed.

To help heal when something happened, something that shouldn't have, and Sandy took a deep breath before he lost his temper again.

He could not attack Mother Nature for it, he would not place more guilt on her shoulders, and he could not rip into Pitch because there was no proof he was the one to attack Spring, and he could not scream to his heart's content until his rage was burned out because he could not, physically, scream.

And he already destroyed the one thing he would allow himself to destroy, so that was out as well.

He took another deep breath and slowly released it. He shook himself all over and focused back on the cloak.

He would have to get another one or something new entirely.

Sandy hesitated to leave, but he wouldn't make one out of dream sand and Sandy didn't have the materials to make anything to replace it.

With a sigh, Sandy left a note for Jack and took off for North's workshop.

* * *

Jack woke with a start, breathing heavily and he carefully raised a shaky hand to his head, shoving his fingers into his hair. He curled up on the bed, curling his hands over his ears as if that would erase the cries of his nightmares. He buried himself further into the frozen covers and the North Wind swirled around him patiently, ruffling his shirt and hair.

Jack shook his head slightly, but the North Wind was insistent and slowly Jack sat up, even if he didn't want to. He just wanted to curl up and not move and forget about the world. He wanted to hide away and keep away from everyone, but without his staff, and too drained to try without it, he couldn't. He sighed and got up, wincing at the way the bed felt.

"I miss sleeping in the snow," he muttered and the North Wind sung soothingly in his ear and Jack leaned into the ruffling the Wind always gave him.

It was then that he registered that Sandman was missing. He looked around in confusion until his eyes landed on a paper. He walked over to it and sighed when he saw it covered in squiggles.

Stupid squiggles.

Jack sighed and sat back down on the bed, glaring at the note. Some frost was curling over it and Jack huffed softly, asking his powers not to damage the paper.

The frost hesitated, but obeyed.

Jack gave his thanks and he felt the room drop in temperature as his abilities, the Winter he was created to carry and contain, worked itself out in other ways. He sighed and tried to figure out what it said. He didn't think it was a note that said Sandman was abandoning him; Jack was pretty sure the castle would be gone if that was so, but Jack had no idea where he was.

And he stared at the squiggles, trying to will them into making sense, but they didn't.

He was about to toss it away when a golden tendril curled in front of his face and he looked up. "Sandman!" he greeted with a smile, hopping up onto his feet, even if it made him sway a little.

He noticed that all the golden sand got a little brighter and Sandman floated over, carefully ruffling Jack's hair before he had Jack sit down. It was only then that Jack realized that there was something floating behind Sandman. He twitched and looked around the shorter man, curious, and Sandman sighed before depositing it gently on Jack's lap.

"It's not my birthday," he answered when he saw the wrapped present.

Sandman shot him a look, but Jack still stared at him in confusion. "But…I haven't done anything to…I…" Jack stated, but Sandman merely rested his hands on Jack's shoulders and almost seemed to be trying to explain something to Jack.

Jack hesitated and then looked down at the present. He looked back up and Sandman encouraged him to open it.

And with that, Jack did.

He immediately stood up as he pulled out the coat, navy blue, and put it on in surprise. The collar could flip up to hide his face, and the cuffs could fold down to cover his hands. It fell just past his knees and there was a cape attached that fell just past his elbows. He immediately closed it up, and, even though he sort-of looked like he was wearing a dress, he loved it.

With the way he was feeling, he felt like he could huddle into it and hide. He ran a hand lovingly over it and he smiled up at Sandman, who looked cheerful over the fact Jack loved it so much.

Jack then glanced at the letter Sandman had left him and held it out to Sandman. "Could you teach me how to read?" he asked, and, from the look on Sandman's face, Jack would guess that he was surprised, but the man of golden dreams nodded anyway and Jack looked relieved.

* * *

Jack poured himself into the lessons, turning them into a game and, essentially, making the North Wind learn as well. As time passed, only Sandy saw the way the castle was slowly growing smaller and smaller as Jack's need for it diminished. Slowly, Jack stopped hiding within his greatcoat and began to play more often, living without his need for the staff, because Sandy still could see the darkness that was haunting Jack's eyes and it would just take one bad day to have him icing himself in, probably.

But Sandy smiled as Jack devoured the lessons that he was taught, even though Sandy was sure they would have been easier with someone could speak, but…

Who else was there?

Sandy knew that the other Guardians barely knew of Jack.

To them, Jack was just 'that Winter Spirit.'

Did they even know that the Man in the Moon, not Mother Nature, had created him?

Oh, she probably had a hand, now that Sandman thought about it, to be a Seasonal Spirit, but she had not reached out to the child, when that was something he needed.

Of course, Sandy could understand, considering her…past.

The day Jack was able to read a page from a book Sandy had found without any help, was the day the castle finished dissolving, the glimmering sand flying into the wind, leaving only Jack's room, a place of safety to go when it was needed.

"What happened?" Jack asked.

Yes, his icy blue eyes were still a little shadowed, but he would be fine.

So Sandy wrote out the purpose of the castle and Jack stared at Sandy. "You built this…just for me?"

Sandy nodded.

"So…so I could be safe?"

Sandy nodded again and then waved his hand around and shrugged.

"It…it only stayed as long as I needed it," he stated and glanced at the room that remained.

"So I can be safe," he whispered and Sandy nodded again.

Jack stared down at the book in his hands and looked up at Sandy with a grin. "I can _read_! I can…I can see what people are talking about, and I can slip around and read over people's shoulders! I…I'll know things! I can finally read the crates in that workshop up in that snowbound place! Well, if I can get back into there again. I don't think I can, but I can read the letters on the stable doors there too!" Jack exclaimed, getting excited and the North Wind curled around him eagerly, the book's pages fluttering lightly in the breeze.

Sandy started and gave an unheard sigh, though Jack noticed.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked.

Sandy made a cloud and motioned for Jack to sit down next to him.

It was time to explain the Guardians.

He'd explain the other spirits at another time.

He wasn't sure how much Jack could take being known he was being considered below notice with just about every other being like him in the world.

Sandy was surprised he managed not to physically flinch when that thought crossed his mind.

He really hoped the castle wouldn't reform.

And with that, as children dreamed peacefully, Sandy explained something to Jack he should have probably explained from the beginning.

Sandy never said how all the spirits got presents from North, no matter the list, because they couldn't help their natures, for it held far more sway over them than any human. He never said how Bunny would probably despise Jack forever for what Mother Nature had asked him to do, or tell him how Tooth giggled over his teeth and would swoop down on him for that reason alone.

That would be the only reason Tooth would look at him, actually.

Sandy didn't sigh over that, and kept these thoughts from his mind till later, when Jack had learned the names of the Guardians and after the meeting with Mother Nature.

Sandy huffed.

He was sure _that_ was going to go over well.


	10. To Talk With Mother Nature

**Summary:** Jack huddles into his coat, the collar flipped up, the cuffs practically folded over his hand, perched on his staff, book in hand, reading while the Winds (all four of them) are rushing around.

Sandy would find it adorable, if it were any other time.

* * *

Sandy peered over his cloud edge to stare at where he had tracked Jack to; a peak on a mountain, specifically, sitting in the snow, his staff perched up next to him, reading.

Sandy was a little worried where he got the book from, but decided that, so long as it wasn't destroyed and it was returned, he was not going to worry too much on it. However, he would work on getting Jack a book for his birthday next year.

He watched the young spirit for a while, noticing that _all_ the Winds were there, though it took Sandy a while to figure out which one was where.

North was content to curl around Jack, while East was spinning wildly through the air, obviously bored. South was curling around Jack's feet, if the way Jack kept twitching his feet and burying them into the slushy snow was any indication while West was trying to get East to settle down.

Sandy let out an unheard sigh and sent a golden stream out.

Jack looked up and smiled. "Hey Sandman! What's wrong?" he asked.

Sandy immediately began to make shapes and Jack became wary. "Mother Nature? What does she want?" he questioned, voice neutral...except that slight tremble of fear.

Again, Sandy was amazed he didn't physically flinch.

And, again, Sandy reined his temper in.

It would be so very bad if he got angry right now.

More images flickered and Jack pulled back almost. "To talk?" he asked, voice disbelieving.

Sandy could see where this was going, but nodded anyway. Jack glanced at the book and carefully closed it (and it was then that Sandy saw how damaged it was and wondered if Jack had seen it, abandoned in the woods, or on the side of the road and collected it up because he had to, not because he _wanted_ to read it or own it, but because it was abandoned and forgotten).

He stood up, pocketing the book in one of the many pockets that Sandy had made sure were deep and secure. "What if I don't want to talk to her?" Jack asked.

Sandy made a begging motion.

Jack stared at him and, without warning took off, the Four Winds quickly following.

Sandy stared after him and huffed soundlessly, blowing his hair out of his face.

Well, so much for the _direct_ plan.

* * *

Sandy found Jack a few days later, perched on his staff, reading the same book, while the Four Winds played.

It would be adorable if it was any other situation.

He wondered why they were so close to North's workshop and he floated around, only to immediately rush forward, grabbing Jack's chin, turning Jack's left cheek toward the sun, ignoring Jack's exclamations of being okay, eyes wide at seeing the deep, black, bruise with cuts that littered said bruise marring Jack's face.

Sandy was sure Jack couldn't understand the sand images he was making, but all that was going through his head was that somehow, someway, in the few days that Sandy hadn't seen him, Jack had gotten injured.

Someone had hurt Jack.

"Sandman! I'm okay! I just…I smacked into a rock, okay?" Jack exclaimed, still perched impossibly on his staff, even as Sandy floated back slightly.

He glared a bit and Jack closed the book carefully before he pocketed it. "It's _fine_," Jack stated and hopped off his staff before collecting it.

"And, no, I won't go see Mother Nature," Jack answered and was gone.

Sandy let his golden dream sand fluff out like steam from his ears in irritation and ran a hand down his face, waving at the West wind as it passed.

The West Wind paused to curl around him briefly before following the rest, racing to catch up.

It seemed _everyone_ in Jack's life was worried about him.

Sandy just wished he was seeing so much of the boy because of other reasons.

He let out a soundless sigh and followed after Jack Frost.

Mother Nature would owe both him and Jack _dearly_ when this all was over.

* * *

Jack was perched on his staff once more, half his face dark and scratched, the other paler then the snow.

Sandy floated over to him, sitting next to him on a golden cloud. "Shouldn't you be creating dreams?" Jack asked, even as he skipped a flat piece of ice over the frozen pool.

Sandy pointed and Jack's eyes rose till they saw the golden streams, swirling through the air. Jack stared, eyes following and he stared at Sandy before he created another flat piece of ice to skip over the frozen pool. "I'm not talking to her," Jack stated.

Sandy reached out and placed a hand on Jack's shoulder and the boy looked at him. A question mark floated over Sandy's head and Jack sighed. "If I talk to her, I'll forgive her. And I…I want to stay mad at her and I know I won't if I meet with her, talk with her," he explained and Sandy reached up, gently ruffling Jack's hair.

Sandy then twitched his head to the side and Jack sighed, the Four Winds curling around them. "Fine," he muttered and reached down, holding his staff before he 'fell'. The North Wind immediately carted him up and Sandy followed after them, the Four Winds racing around.

Not for the first time, Sandy wished he could understand them.

He was sure he could learn who hurt Jack then.

He let out a sigh.

One problem at a time.

* * *

Jack was perched on his staff once more, the collar flipped up and the cuffs practically covering his hands, pretending to read the book he had found abandoned, and the Four Winds rushing around him.

They had tried to get Jack to play, but he wasn't up for it.

He wasn't sure why he let Sandman talk him into this.

Ironic, really, the one guy who _couldn't_ talk was the one to actually do that. He hunched over more into his jacket, trying to hide from the world, even as he felt Sandman's hand begin to run soothingly through his hair.

Without meaning to, Jack's eyes closed and he titled his head into the comfort, letting the book close, carefully, in his hand. He was perched on his staff and it was much more comfortable now that he had learned how to do it better and he actually enjoyed perching on his staff. "Jack?" a voice called and his eyes snapped open in surprise.

The woman was beautiful, in Jack's opinion. Hair was as black as a moonless night, wearing a dress that seemed to be trapped between two seasons, the third and fourth creeping up the edges, for the bodice was like spring, her shoulders the creeping of summer, while the skirt was the twirling of autumn leaves with the creeping of winter at the bottom, the dress a perfect complement to skin like nutmeg.

However, what made Jack want to curl up farther into his coat was her eyes.

Eyes that were a warm golden brown, like honey, that were just so sad.

No, sad was too simple a word.

Heart broken, was better.

This woman, who Jack was sure was Mother Nature, was burdened by a great grief that clung to her every movement, her every breath.

He was sure she did not even escape her grief when she was asleep, even if Sandman gave her the most golden and bright dreams he could manage, and Jack was sure Sandman did.

"Yeah?" he answered softly, carefully pocketing the book away into his coat pocket.

It had not taken much to convince his powers not to ice it, or damage it, so long as they could freeze everything else, chill it and cover it in frost.

Peeking through windows was, as such, now next to impossible.

"Hello. I'm Mother Nature," she introduced.

He nodded a bit and she smiled weakly at him. "Jack…I am so sorry that I had you do that. If I could have found another way, I would have, but it was the only way I could think up in such a short time. If I had had more time, I would have found a way not to ask such a thing from you. And I am sorry," she explained softly and he stared at her.

"It's okay," he began, but she cut him off when she was suddenly just…there.

"No, it is not. I should not have done that for you. You are…You are my Seasonal Spirit, never mind that the Man in the Moon created you, you are my Seasonal Spirit, first and foremost, and I have failed you in more ways than just this. I have not insured you were safe, or had a place to stay. I have not insured that you were free of loneliness and I have caused you harm. I once swore to help protect the children of this world, and even if you weren't immortally a child, you _are_ one of _my_ children, and I have failed. There is no way I can fix it. But I can do better, or try at least," she stated, soft and insistent and Jack stared at her, unsure of how to handle this.

She immediately backed off, giving him space and she smoothed her skirt down slightly. "Sorry. But what I have done, it is not right," she explained and sighed softly.

She then glanced at Jack. "Besides Sandman, who do you have contact with?" she asked.

"Just…just him mainly. And North's yetis," Jack answered.

She frowned. "No penguins or wolves?" she asked and Jack hunched farther into his coat.

"They walk straight through me," he explained and for a moment, he was terrified of her.

Mother Nature seemed to almost explode and Sandman immediately began to run a comforting hand through Jack's hair. "How…what…MANNY!" she screeched out and rushed outside.

The booms of thunder that followed and the shouting that came from outside had Jack huddling more on his perch, the Four Winds curling around him protectively, Sandman never stopping in his gentle motions. When Mother Nature returned, she was calm again.

"We'll fix that right now," she stated and, Jack stared at her in confusion.

"What?" he asked.

"We're fixing that. Right now," she explained as she began to walk forward.

"How?" Jack asked, resisting the urge to lean away from her.

She made him far too nervous, even if he forgave her for what she had put him through.

"I'm going to correct it. How did you get so injured?" she responded and this time, Jack did lean away from her, forgetting he was on his staff.

He let out a yelp as he began to fall back, but he fell onto a golden cloud, even as his staff clattered to the ground. Mother Nature paused and then picked it up, causing Jack to still, feeling as if someone was holding his beating heart in their hands. He stared at her hands, at his staff in them, and tensed as she walked closer, before she held it out to him.

Jack immediately snatched the staff from her hands and clung to it. "I hit a rock," he answered.

Sandman stared at him and began to have the images flash over his head. "What? No, no one _shoved_ me. I just…the snow wasn't thick in that area and I hit my face, that's all!" Jack exclaimed and Sandman floated forward, making demands in that way of his and Jack gave him a pleading look, eyes flickering to Mother Nature quickly before settling back on Sandman.

Sandman gave one of those quiet huffs, but backed off. Mother Nature looked between them with a smile. "Jack, I am just going to do what I do with _all_ my Seasonal Spirits. I am going to make it possible for you to be seen by animals and have them not balk at your presence, as much a part of their world as every other spirit," she explained and he eyed her, still on Sandman's cloud, before he nodded.

She smiled and stepped forward, gently reaching up. Jack couldn't stop from flinching when her hand touched the bruise, and cuts, but she was gentle. And then it felt as if he was standing in a quiet snowfall. As if something that had been missing had been put into place and he blinked a bit, noticing that snowflakes were floating through the air.

Mother Nature smiled and withdrew.

Jack gave a nod and then floated up. He moved to head out when he paused and turned to look at her. "I am sorry for your loss," he stated and he felt the room still suddenly.

Mother Nature turned to stare at him, blank and Sandman was watching him curiously, while Jack floated on the wind. He clutched his staff tighter and continued, "No one told me, but it is in your eyes. I'm sorry, for whoever you lost. I'm sorry you lost them. And I want you to know….I forgive you for asking me. But…you can't keep grieving like this. If you do, you'll lose sight of yourself," Jack stated and moved to race off again before he stopped.

Before he could stop himself, he floated over to her and blew some snow in her face, which sparkled and shone before settling. "You need to have some fun Mother Nature," he stated and quickly zipped off before Sandman could corner him or Mother Nature could ask.

But, even as he and the Winds raced away, he heard her laughter.

Jack thought it was more beautiful then she was.

* * *

**A/N:** If it wouldn't have been a major spoiler, I would have called this part; 'In Which We See How Jack is Way Too Forgiving'.

Also, sorry I didn't get this up yesterday and that it is so late. I was just too tired and it was nowhere near finished.


	11. Cuts and Bruises

**Summary:** Jack Frost really should have realized that Sandman wouldn't let it go that easily.

* * *

The night was cool as Jack sailed on the North Wind's back, the soft ruffling through his hair as the East Wind twirled over them, and around them, fluttering to and fro. The Winds tried their hardest not to harm him, but, under his thick coat and besides his face, he was still sore from the attack, and the Winds often whispered apologies every time he winced, but he smiled and laughed, and forgave them.

It was not their fault that he was in pain.

It was not their fault that he got attacked by another spirit, sprite, thing.

On the bright side, he hadn't lied about how he had gotten the bruise and cuts on his face, however.

He had hit a rock, and it hadn't been because he was shoved.

He had sort of had his face rammed into the rock.

He winced at the memory before he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes as he floated along on the breeze, content in this moment, even as he felt his body twinge with occasional spasm of pain. He was floating on there when he felt himself gently bump something.

Immediately his eyes flew open and he began to flail a bit, panic overtaking his limbs and mind and then a familiar hand was in his hair and he blinked a bit to find that he was on one of Sandman's golden clouds and said dream weaver was staring down at him in concern. Jack smiled back, wincing when it made his face hurt and he leaned a bit into the gentle hand running through his hair.

He was going to get spoiled, really.

All this almost off-handed touching that he knew was regular, that it was _normal _ amongst the families he watched, but he was alone most of the year, unlike those children he tried to have him see.

He wouldn't get this regularly once Sandman began to focus back on the sleeping children.

So, Jack focused on the _now_ and decided to just enjoy it while it lasted. He let his eyes slide closed, grip relaxed on his staff as Sandman continued to run a comforting hand through his hair, the concern wrapping around Jack as securely as the jacket he wore.

He felt a gentle tug on his hair and he opened his eyes to find Sandman watching him in concern. "Sorry," he offered, but Sandman merely frowned and reached out, hand hovering over the bruise.

"Oh, you're not just going to let it go?" Jack questioned hopefully, but Sandman gave him a little scowl that said what he thought about that idea and Jack sighed softly, feeling the Winds curl around him, South on the outer most edges and Jack curled up, hiding away in his coat.

He gripped his staff like a life line and he rested his cheek against the frosted wood.

He didn't want to, but Sandman was asking. And, of all the things in the world Jack could stand against, Sandman was not one of them. He stared out, across the world that was still light, a break between the sleepers, and Jack let out a soft sigh.

"I don't know who or what it was. I just know that she was mad. She was mad at me, for some reason. She kept saying that I stole something of hers, but I didn't understand. I had just landed near a cold pool of water and…I took off my coat and laid my staff over it. I was thinking of moving South soon. Have to, anyway. I don't want to run into Summer, and Spring is feisty enough. I _should_ be South already, in fact, but…the Winds are being stubborn and I won't _make_ them take me until it is absolutely needed. But Spring is at the midway point, which means that Autumn's half over on the Southern hemisphere, and really, we need to be there right now," Jack answered and the Winds made remarks about being bored.

It was never a good sign.

He wasn't even around for a century yet, and he already knew that bored Winds were not good for _anyone_.

Especially him, apparently.

"But, we're still here. And it…I hit the ground, I didn't want to hurt her. I knew she was a spirit and then…West Wind came and yanked her off. First time any of the Winds ever carried someone else, but it wasn't enough. West Wind, who really, is very stubborn, suddenly dropped off, and I hadn't quite got my bearings yet, she grabbed my head and hit it into the rock. She wasn't trying to brain me or anything. I think she wanted to stun me. The only problem was that she hit my face, and it hurt, but nothing broke…I think. But North Wind…North Wind doesn't exactly play _nice_, unless I ask him to. He's got a mean streak a league wide when he gets the chance to exercise it and he doesn't care who gets in the crosswinds, so long as it isn't me. He didn't do anything at first because he knew I would be upset, but the minute it wasn't just hitting and shouting, he was at her.

"I know he hurt her, but…the minute I had my staff and coat, he was carrying me off. Since then, all Four Winds have been circling me. I'm worried they'll tear whoever it was apart," Jack explained and there is a gentle hand.

Jack let's his eyes slide closed again as the comforting hand runs through his hair.

He does not protest when sleep claims him, bringing him golden dreams.

When he wakes, he is in the South Pole.

For the first time, Jack is seen by the penguins and Jack loves it.

He doesn't question why he can understand them now too.

He figures it is part of whatever Mother Nature gave back to him.

And in the night of the world, golden streams, bright and glowing, play down.

And in each curl is an identity, whispered and soft.

_Jack Frost, the Child of Winter._

* * *

**A/N:** This was really hard to write, mostly because my brain kept jumping around.

Originally, yes, he was attacked.

As I was writing this, it kept jumping around from embarrassing to angsty, till eventually it settled on whoever it was that attacked Jack.

Not the original person.

Probably a good thing.

So, there's that.

I'm going to go hide now and try to write the next part.

Maybe we'll eventually get to meet the seasons! (headdesks)

They were SUPPOSED to show up before now.


	12. Session of the Seasons

**Warnings:** The North Wind describes a detailed mention of the ways he would like to get vengeance on the one who hurt Jack. He does not do it, but he does describe what he would like to do.

**Summary:** Sessions of the Seasons don't happen as often as one would expect, as Mother Nature likes to wait till the New Moon on either an Equinox or a Solstice.

Jack Frost really wishes he hadn't attended this one.

* * *

Jack huffed softly as he perched on his staff impatiently.

It was four days to his seventh birthday, also known as the Winter Solstice, when, early that morning, Mother Nature had called and said they were having a 'Session of the Seasons' and she asked, not demanded, that he attend.

He had come anyway, but only after Mother Nature reassured him that he would be able to do his winter duties from the meeting place. North Wind, however, had refused to leave him and was settled around him, on him, frighteningly still, and ready to bring in a cold snap, the air freezing more than if it was just Jack's presence alone that waited on the part of the compass rose that was meant for him, the ice and snow that was a part of Mother Nature's realm touched with his furls of frost that also sheltered the maddening colors of winter that were so often hidden from blinded eyes and Jack wondered who had built it, because he knew it was probably as old as the Winds, if not more so.

He could feel it through his feet.

He looked directly across when he felt heat crossing over and he saw Summer, who made him naturally nervous, because the heat was touching and curling around his half of the domain and he didn't like it.

However, he still found her enchanting, though in that scary way that seemed to be attached to the forbidden, as he was sure if he got any closer to her, she would melt him.

Black curls fell past her shoulders, a crown of flowers woven into her hair and her undyed cotton dress made a sharp contrast with her mahogany skin.

Jack wondered if they could be friends, despite the fact that she was Summer. You know, if they stayed a good distance away from each other.

However, that seemed unlikely, as she wasn't even paying any attention to Jack.

No, all her attention was focused on the various spirits that seemed to be as part of her as the frost that always spilled from Jack. She spoke with men made of green leaves, and the summer blossoms in humanoid form that were not even four inches tall, and motes of sharp summer heat. She whispered and Jack was feeling left out when suddenly her hair and dress blew back suddenly.

She turned in confusion, but Jack was already laughing as South Wind began to swirl around him excitedly, ruffling his hair and making Jack feel far too hot, but South Wind was obviously excited. North Wind didn't let him get away with that for long, shoving the South Wind off before he melted Jack Frost and the South Wind whined lowly before backing off, but now Summer was staring at him.

"Another one?" she questioned and Jack Frost blinked in confusion and she gave a smile.

"Sorry. I am the Spirit of Summer. I go by many titles, but I've taken a liking to the May Queen, but you may call me Summer, if you wish. I was created by Mother Nature many years ago, but Spring is the oldest of us. And you are?" she introduced, her voice soft and gentle, warm in a way that made Jack feel stupid and he huddled into his coat a little in embarrassment.

"Jack Frost, Spirit of Winter," he introduced, uncertain of 'another one' and how well that bode for him.

He laughed again as the South Wind gently bumped his forehead before North Wind shooed him off again. "I've never seen the South Wind like that before," she mused, eyes easily tracking the wind, before she clicked her fingers together.

The South Wind hesitated, but another sharp click and he carefully sulked back over. "You'll melt him," Summer stated, but the South Wind obviously didn't care and Jack could sense (he wondered when he was able to sense the other Winds, not just the North Wind) where he now curled on the floor, buffeting the perpetual summer grass that was across from him.

Before Jack could ask about the other ones, or why Summer treated the South Wind like some sort of pet (and he was starting to get why the Winds liked being with him now), Spring's stag bound into the spring part of the compass they all seemed to be standing on, carrying Spring on his back.

She looked ready to pass out, and Jack wondered why there were closed buds all over her, when he realized that they were spring butterflies, the insects that brought life, or spirits shaped like them and Jack felt the North Wind settle tighter around him.

They were sleeping as well and Spring seemed to only be staying awake through sheer will power. Jack watched, interested, now seeing more details that he hadn't before, such as how her skin was a paler green and her hair, which he had thought made her half her outfit, was a vivid, living, green that melded almost seamlessly into her flowing green dress that was timeless. Her eyes, half asleep and dark, alighted on Jack and she perked up before she nudged the stag.

He hesitated, obviously not wishing to go anywhere near Jack before he obeyed and walked over, easily making his way to where Jack was perched and the North Wind obligingly pulled back.

The West Wind immediately rose to buffet Jack gently, curling around him in greeting, Spring's laughter like raindrops that made Jack feel uncomfortable. When she had been shooing him away, he hadn't the chance to really look at her. Now, it was obvious that she was that blithe life that came with spring, that new beginning that made her shine and shimmer, even when she was ready to go to sleep.

She smiled at him and gently touched her cheek, even when Jack moved to lean away, not wanting to hurt her.

The frost covered her fingers and the stag snorted at her, but Jack understood. "It's okay. I understand the previous year was pretty stressful for you," he stated and she nodded a bit, already shivering, her eyes sliding closed and the stag quickly rushed away.

Good thing too, because Jack didn't want to be known as the one who killed Spring.

"Don't worry. Spring did some sort of intricate thing while I was still new and made it so she hibernated with her helpers for half the year instead of the stag. It was a wise move, however. Unlike the _rest_ of us, Spring needs to be in a certain mindset to be a fighter and the stag is very protective of her. It was really odd when she got caught and not even _he_ could find her," Summer stated and Jack looked over her in confusion.

"1717; someone caught her right before the equinox. Odd, really, but made sense. She was still sleeping and, somehow, the Stag could not find her. An impossibility, considering the first aid you get, and you'll get one eventually don't you worry, can _always_ find you. They're sort-of your protector when things go wrong, the failsafe. Everyone thinks its Pitch, but don't say that around Mother Nature. She gets edgy whenever Pitch is mentioned," Summer explained, in a manner that suggested that he should already know, but she didn't expect him to.

Before Jack could ask who Pitch even _was_, Mother Nature just…appeared in the center of the four points. Her dress was a fluttering white, with the summer accents trailing through her skirts, the flowers of spring on her shoulders while autumn leaves were embroidered at the base of the summer accents.

"May Queen," Mother Nature greeted, pressing a kiss to Summer's forehead before she drifted to Spring.

She ran a gentle hand through the stag's fur and smiled warmly at Spring. "Spring. I'll make this quick," Mother Nature stated before she turned.

She was a flurry of activity as she walked over to Jack, who easily left his perch on his staff, frost coating his cheeks when she pressed a kiss to his forehead as well. "It is good to see you Jack," she murmured softly and gently pet his hair, which caused Jack to stiffen, unused to it when it wasn't Sandman.

She merely smiled and turned with a sigh. "Where's Chyou?" Mother Nature asked.

"Her aid has been causing her trouble. I am sure she is trying to unearth her, wherever she is," Summer answered with a delicate shrug.

Mother Nature gave a sigh when there was a swirl of autumn leaves and a woman, riding sidesaddle on the back of a scaled pony that had the antlers of a deer, entered. "My apologies," she stated, long black hair bound out of her face, her robes even more noble then the May Queen's, but Jack's eyes were drawn to her feet, which were much too small for her tall frame.

"It is quite all right Chyou," Mother Nature greeted and Jack forced his eyes up…in time to see the woman with hair like brimming fire who had attacked him follow after Chyou.

Jack reeled back, fear spiking his movements, but the North Wind did not have qualms about waiting, shrieking over. Mother Nature threw up her hands, even as the North Wind deftly dodged her and caught the fiery haired woman up, _slamming_ her into the nearest tree.

Chyou's pony danced to the side, the mane and tail fluttering as the East Wind swirled up and headed towards Jack, cowering behind him. "North Wind, will you stop please?" Jack shouted over the shrieking, knowing he was the only one who could hear the threats the North Wind was snarling out.

The Devouring One, as he had been called once upon a time.

Jack only believed it in moments like this.

The North Wind just kept shrieking and Jack sighed. "East?" he called and the East Wind balked before suddenly rushing Jack forward.

Jack didn't hesitate and he landed on North Wind as he raced past.

Immediately North Wind swept him back and had him land, gently on the ground, curling around him while he snarled curses at the now gasping helper and Jack made soothing noises at the North Wind, while East continued to tremble.

Jack murmured apologies in their language and they accepted them, as soft breath of relief with the words.

They know that Jack would never order North Wind back.

The closest he ever got was the call for home and that was any Wind that wanted to grab him and fly off. Jack continued to murmur soothingly at the North Wind, but still he snarled and rippled, wanting to rend the Spirit apart, rip her asunder and live up to a name given to him long ago.

He had less savory names he had never given Jack, never told the Winter Child and Jack figured that the Winds were the only ones that could kill an immortal.

"I knew you were no good!" the fiery haired spirit screeched and immediately the East Wind lifted up while the North Wind _howled_, leaping for her once more.

Jack groaned and began to beat his head against the nearest tree. "Call off your Wind!" Summer snarled and Jack gave her a look.

"I won't order him around like he's a _pet_. He's older then I am. Heck, he's older then Mother Nature. He _remembers_ when she was created! I'm not going to treat him like a wayward child!" Jack exclaimed, sighing a bit as East trembled behind him once more.

East Wind would not be going anywhere near North Wind now.

Jack sighed and stared at where the North Wind had her pinned. "North Wind, will you let her go? I forgave her for the face, for the other injuries, okay?" he shouted, and the North Wind screamed, demanding blood be given.

He wanted to rip her apart _slowly_ for insulting Jack so. He wanted to take her body and break it upon the ice and nearly drown her in the freezing ocean (and that disturbed Jack a bit more than the threat of bone breaking). He wanted to make her plead and beg for mercy and give her none.

The North Wind was trembling with rage and Jack began to hum lowly.

The North Wind began to flutter. Jack continued, his voice carrying softly.

It wasn't the best voice. It trembled and could barely keep on the notes, but the North Wind slowly backed down before slinking back and settling around Jack Frost's shoulders.

"What do you mean…you forgave her?" Mother Nature questioned, glaring at the shaking spirit, along with Chyou.

Jack groaned and covered his face.

Well, this meeting got longer than before.

* * *

Jack sighed as he stretched out in the snow.

The session had taken three days.

It was rather irritating and he smiled when the North Wind fluffed up around.

"Thanks North Wind," he whispered.

The North Wind cooed cheerfully.

It was nice to know someone would do horrendous bloody torture because someone insulted you.

However, Jack had a feeling he was going to be spending the rest of eternity keeping the North Wind from doing just that.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm sorry this was late.


	13. An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary:** It is still a wondrous surprise, one that Jack knows shouldn't be, when he sees Sandman floating down to his lake on his birthday night.

* * *

Jack Frost grinned as Sandman floated down to the frozen lake that Jack called home. He carefully stood up, the snow clinging to his greatcoat even as he walked towards the golden dream maker. "Merry Christmas Sandy," he greeted and Sandman floated up, showing the symbols he used for Christmas and then he gave a birthday greeting, causing Jack to beam with delighted surprise.

Sandman merely smiled back and gently ruffled Jack's hair, which had Jack's eyes closing in comfortable trust of the dream weaver.

"Jack?" a voice, softly accented, called and Jack's eyes snapped open in surprise, tension filling his body as he turned to face Chyou, who gave an apologetic look, her antlered, scaled, horse snorted softly, the breath visible as it curled through the sliver of moonlight that struggled to light up the night.

"Chyou, is something wrong?" Jack asked, walking over while Sandman followed in concern.

Chyou glanced at Sandman and gave a polite nod of greeting before she focused on Jack. "I wished to apologize more formally for my former aid's actions. She…she had greatly dishonored me and the rest of my court and I am here to make amends," Chyou stated and Sandman gave Jack a look, even as Jack stared at her in confusion.

"I…I am completely fine. This isn't necessary. I forgive you Chyou, it wasn't your fault."

His confusion laced his voice, and Chyou let out a soft sigh, her odd horse snorting again as he shook his head. "You don't understand. That is all right. Just know that she will never harm you again and I need to regain the honor she has stolen from all of us," Chyou responded and Jack shook his slightly.

"I…I don't understand," he admitted and Chyou stared at him.

"Mother Nature has the power to turn us back into what we once were or that which we have become. My aid was turned into the very leaves she painted for the grievous harm she caused to your person, especially as she did so under the impression that you stole the East Wind," Chyou explained calmly, neutrally, and it was only her horse pawing at the snow with one cloven hoof that told Jack that she was far more distressed then she was showing.

Or angry or upset.

The fact that she was completely calm was actually unnerving Jack slightly. "Turned…into leaves?" Jack questioned.

"Yes. We cannot afford to have someone who would attack a fellow spirit for a perceived slight with no evidence to back it up. She attacked you and she gained no scars, showing that you upheld the unspoken code of us, the Seasons. We do not attack our own, Jack. We have difficult enough times without worrying that one of our own will snap and attack us. We cannot afford it. Playful fighting is one thing, but not between the Seasons and their Aids. We…we can do irreparable harm to the world if we do. Our entire existence is a system of balances and checks. We are Five; Mother Nature is our center and, we the Seasons, are the Four Points. We guard each other and we do our best to help each other out. The slight done to you is far more grievous then just someone attacking you, a large enough slight to have warranted such an action, she was also attacking _winter_ and threatening the balance we protect with our very nature. We do not need codes and oaths to do what we were _created_ to do. No offense meant, Sandman," Chyou explained, her voice gentle.

She spoke as if she knew that Jack needed to know, and she had not expected him to know.

It was nice to be spoken to like he was actually intelligent, just uninformed.

Jack glanced at Sandman, who gave a wave of acceptance, already moving to float away from the pair and it took everything Jack had not to just leap at Sandman and beg him to stay.

He had only known Chyou for a few days.

Jack didn't want to be left alone with her.

"I apologize, Jack Frost, Spirit of Winter and Child of the Moon, for the harm Saidie did to you," Chyou stated her head bowed slightly and Jack stared at her when the East Wind lifted around him, whispering the needed words into Jack's ear.

"I forgive you Chyou, Spirit of Autumn, and Noble Lady of the Seasons," Jack answered and Chyou nodded, turning her horse away.

And then she was gone, her mount taking to the skies, sparks like bursts of autumn colors erupting from where the hooves struck an invisible path that only Chyou could see.

He turned around and found Sandman floating there.

Jack just smiled and Sandman smiled fondly at Jack before widening the cloud so Jack could hop up.

And with that they took to the stars to celebrate Jack's birthday, instead of staying at the lake.

Jack didn't know why that made him so relieved.

He decided not to examine it too much.

* * *

**A/N:** 'Golden Frozen Streams the Comic' as made by Mossmallow on Tumblr.

IT IS GLORIOUS!

*cuddles the comic and begins to do little sobs of joy*

Also…

SOMEONE MADE FAN ART FOR THE FIC! *squeals*

Reidluver made fanart of Sandy ruffling Jack's hair (also on Tumblr).

ISN'T IT ADORABLE?

On that note; if you want to do fan art for my fic, you have my permission.

Just drop me a link so I can gush over it and attempt to plaster it all over my tumblr while I squeal for joy over the scenes I wrote being made into art.

(Also, sorry for the info dump in this part.)


	14. What Does Christmas Mean?

**Summary:** Jack contemplates Christmas.

* * *

Jack stares into the darkness of the South Pole's winter sky and contemplates Christmas.

He's always gotten a birthday present, but he's never gotten a Christmas present. They had always celebrated his birthday, and while, yes, Jack always gave Sandman a present (something small, something that wouldn't somehow burden the dream weaver), it had never been something that Jack had...thought about. He tapped his staff against the ground, noting the frost flowers that curled around, before he went back to staring into the sky, leaning on his staff, the North Wind curling around him.

The penguins were huddled together and the world was dark.

It was the time of the endless night at the South Pole and Jack closed his eyes as he took a deep breath.

What was Christmas?

Visions of children smiling up at their parents, gifts, whatever they could afford, given, and the joy, the wonder, on children's faces when a present from 'Father Christmas' or 'North' had left under their trees, or in their hands. Jack was not foolish, knowing the round tree fruits known as 'oranges' were more precious then any toy that could be given to the half-frozen children Jack saw on occasion, huddled in corners.

Jack kept from getting too close to them, knowing he could only make them cold.

And they were cold enough without his "help".

In those moments, Jack sometimes wished he had a thousand coats, just so he could drape one on each child he found, tuck it around them, and try to help them get warm.

But he didn't have a thousand coats.

He just had the one and it was frozen nearly all the way through, useless in keeping any child warm. It would soak them and make it worse and Jack turned his thoughts away from things he could not change.

The Wind whispered in his ears, trying to entice him into the air, but Jack only frowned a bit and shook his head. "What is Christmas?" he asked and the Wind huffed and tugged at his coat, his hair, trying to get him to forget about the silly holiday.

"What makes it special?" Jack inquired and began to walk across the ice, the Wind continuously tugging at him for his attention. "It can't be the presents; people love it even when there is nothing under the tree," Jack stated, bare feet skittering along the edge of the ice, creating more as he walked, adding a thicker layer which each step.

He then remembered.

People who were alone who either stared into the distance in rage or sadness, or those who pretended it was just any other day…were alone.

He swallowed thickly and felt the Wind buffet him.

"Family," he whispered and the Wind _yanked_.

It hissed at him that he had family, he had Sandman and the Winds. Weren't they enough?

Jack stood there and he stared out across the ice and snow of the endless night the held sway over this half of the world.

The North Wind settled around him, silent, and Jack stared at his staff.

"I don't know," Jack answered and the Wind curled around him.

He gripped his chest through his great coat and stared up at the moon above, though he was slowly growing dark. "I feel as if something is missing. As if…as if I should have something and I don't," Jack stated and Wind hummed lowly in his ears.

It was late, the North Wind soothed.

A nice sleep would help.

Jack didn't want to sleep, but he didn't want to be awake either.

He looked up at the Moon again and then with a sigh, let the North Wind lift him up.

Over they flew, the penguins huddling together their backs to the storm and the North Wind carefully tossed him into a snow bank. Jack laughed, because it escaped and it was fun. The North Wind ruffled his hair before curling around him and Jack closed his eyes.

Christmas is for family.

And Jack wondered if he had one, the thoughts chasing themselves into his sleep, which was untouched by both gold and darkness.


	15. The Cold of the Dark

**Summary:** First meetings are very precious.

And sometimes, very enlightening.

This is one but not the other.

And neither party is sure which it is.

* * *

Jack is a little over ten years old.

He still feels like he is missing something, something vitally important, when he meets him.

'Him' is the man, tall and dark, skin grey, hair black, but streaked with grey, and he is wearing a black robe that is of the shadows itself who scares Jack, but at the same time seems to offer a comfort, for Jack has always enjoyed relaxing in the shadows when the sun begins to get too much and a headache begins to build.

Jack watches him, blue eyes watchful, wary of this stranger who is one with the shadows, mostly because he is tired.

He is just one person and direction an entire season, keeping that the balance of the world, is hard and tiring, but fun (so much fun, actually; because there is no set dates, no deadlines he must meet; he just follows his instinct and where it leads him and pulls a few pranks along the way).

But it is still is just him and no one to talk to and no one to just flop next to and trust that they will watch over him without attempting to rip whoever it is they perceive as a threat apart.

The deer that live through the cold greet him, now, as an old friend. The wolves welcome him into their packs, and the penguins are always too focused on their eggs for him to talk to. The polar bears are asleep, and the whales on the other end of the globe.

But this man of shadows interests Jack, because he's never seen him before. He is glaring down at the village that Jack had landed in.

The village that is dying, slowly but surely, and soon there will be nothing left.

"Are you going to come out or am I going to have to drag you out?" the man asks and Jack twitches his head to the side.

And then he's being yanked forward by shadows and he stumbles with a yelp and a shouted, "Hey!" before he zips up, the Wind easily carrying him out of the grasp and having him land near the shadowy man, despite wanting to race away.

Rush and flit and fly, and leave this man to glare at the village.

"Who are you?" the man asked, staring down at Jack like he is something that is beyond the man's notice and it should be the biggest honor of Jack's life that he is even deciding to speak with him.

It would work, if Jack didn't know loneliness when he heard it. "Jack Frost," Jack answered with a shrug and the man stared at him.

"Spirit of Winter? Bringer of Winter? Winter Shepherd?" Jack offered, the last one tripping off his tongue without ever hearing it before.

"Oh. I've heard whisperings about you. I didn't know you actually existed, considering we had just gotten a new one half a century ago," the man answered and went back to glaring at the village.

"New one what?" Jack demanded.

This was the fourth time someone had brought that up.

The man looked over at him, golden eyes glittering. "What makes you think I'll tell _you_?" the man questioned.

Jack considered and then shrugged. "Nothing. Why are you glaring at the village like it ripped out your heart?" he responded, letting it go.

Maybe Chyou would tell him what it meant.

The man, however, bared his teeth at Jack. "That is entirely impossible," the man stated.

"Why? Because you don't have one?" Jack taunted and the man gave him a look, surprise on his face before it was hidden away.

"Do you know who I am?"

"I have ten years of memories. What do you think?" Jack responded, not answering and the man sighed.

"Wonderful. I've even fallen out of fellow spirits memories. I'm Pitch Black, the Boogeyman," the man introduced, though he sounded like he would rather rip out all his own teeth then have to actually introduce himself.

Jack wasn't sure how to feel about him, but so far he liked the guy (not that he would tell the man of shadows that).

He leaned on his staff and watched the village. "So…that was the first village to walk through you?" Jack asked and the man reels back as if he was struck, but Jack doesn't look away from the village.

The silence stretches between them, Pitch Black never answering, and Jack resists the urge to growl.

He only likes the silence when he is with Sandman.

"Oh, joy, someone else to rub that fact into my face," Pitch drawled and Jack laughed.

He was sure that the Boogeyman was not expecting that and he's surprised that Pitch doesn't try to rip out his organs.

"No, not at all. Just saying that glaring at the village won't change anything. And neither will shouting at it, or haunting it or throwing snowballs into people's faces, though that last one is rather fun," Jack responded and glanced over at Pitch then, grinning at the scowl that decorated the _much_ older spirit's face.

"I know that. I have had far more experience with it then _you_," Pitch growls.

Jack does not correct him.

He does not remind Pitch Black, the Boogeyman, that once upon a time, he had believers, and he probably will again, given time. Take another name, another form, and he would be seen again.

Jack Frost has never had any and he's starting to think he never will.

He will remain a ghost in this world, for even the other Seasons, even Mother Nature, are seen, when they want to be (they can be selective, but Jack just isn't seen, period).

However, the man is rather intimidating and Jack looks up at him, at ease.

He isn't being attacked, but he's leaning a little away from Pitch.

He doesn't want to be caught unaware.

"Just saying, Boogeyman, you need to have a little fun, or you'll fester and rot," Jack stated and jumped, easily catching the wind that pulled him up into the starlight, while Pitch glared up at him, one shadow stopping short from stretching into the Moon's sight.

It just barely missed Jack's foot.

Behind his back, Jack was making a snowball. "And the best way to cheer someone up," Jack began and Pitch glared.

"Don't you dare Frost," he warned.

"Is to have a snowball fight," Jack finished and immediately lobbed the ball of white at the Boogeyman.

The man easily dodged with a glare, but as he turned, he got a face full of the glittering snow Jack sometimes called up, to encourage playfulness.

Sometimes children, like that sad brown haired girl (she wasn't so sad anymore, now that they had left the village, but there was still that shade to her entire demeanor) needed a slight pick me up.

He wasn't sure if it would work on Pitch, who seemed to be blinking a bit in surprise.

The smile wasn't pretty, but it was worth the snowball to the face that one of the shadows lobbed at him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The village we see with Pitch getting walked through is the same village as the one Jack was walked through in.

It also has the same people.

(I think; they look the same both times anyway)

Meaning that Pitch has been doing his planning for 300 years.

And even if it is not true, that is my headcanon and I am sticking to it.

(Also, I apologize if Pitch is out of character. He's not super bitter yet, and Jack is just so playful and used his magic, so I figured most could be forgiven.)


	16. The Dark of the Cold

**Summary:** Pitch Black never thought he would hate being seen.

* * *

One of the most grating feelings in the world is being watched.

Pitch Black had, upon the realization that he was not believed in, thought he would never feel irritation with eyes upon his back.

This was not so.

The fact that this was a _child_ spirit just made it worse.

It was as if the Man in the Moon was taunting him and he shifted slightly so he could hide more in the shadows and out of the moonlight.

It did not rid himself of the irritating spirit and he glared at the village.

The village that symbolized his fall of power, but even they could not ignore the shadows in the trees.

He would rid himself of the village, eventually.

"Are you going to come out or am I going to have to drag you out?" Pitch hissed, though it had no real bite.

While he would not admit it, not in a thousand years, he was lonely.

And if the spirit was here, he might as well try to make conversation.

However, when the boy spirit didn't answer, Pitch rolled his eyes and had his shadows yank the boy forward. There was a yelp, a shout of, 'hey' and then the Wind whipped through, lifting the boy out of his shadows and into the air.

Pitch was surprised when the boy, after hovering a bit in the air (Pitch watched him from the corner of his eye), he landed rather close to Pitch.

Closer than anyone had gotten in a few centuries in any case.

Pitch turned his head and looked down at him.

The boy was small, really, and pale as death.

He reminded Pitch of children that had frozen to death and he barely managed to keep himself from flinching at the thought.

A winter spirit then. But not a snow bringer, not with the Wind whirling around him like that.

Pitch resisted the urge to bare his teeth at the irritating bite of cold.

Instead, he stared at this little snowflake and asked, "Who are you?"

The boy looked up at him, eyes flickering, wary.

Wary, but curious.

The curiosity was what made him stay.

He was tired as well, Pitch could tell by the way the boy leaned on his staff, though nonchalant and something that was obviously a normal position for him, it was heavy. He was tired, as if he was doing too much too often.

"Jack Frost," he responded, fearlessly.

Pitch stared at him.

Jack Frost?

He had heard that name…somewhere. A whisper, or something.

A very irritated whisper.

"Spirit of Winter? Bringer of Winter? Winter Shepherd?" the boy questioned and it clicks in Pitch's brain.

The irritated whisper mentioned the newest Winter Spirit with a shepherd's crook.

Winter Shepherd was rather fitting, actually.

"Oh. I've heard whisperings of you. I didn't know you actually existed, considering we had just gotten a new one half a century ago," Pitch retorted and turned his gaze to the village.

The previous one hadn't even lasted a century?

Pathetic.

Probably for the best. The boy never would have survived under that frozen claw.

"New one what?" the boy questioned and Pitch looked back, shocked.

They…they hadn't _told_ him? Hadn't told him about how Winter Spirits were created and how, if they gave up, let the cold of winter infect them without the balance of the joy the snow could bring, they became the very things they created?

They didn't even _warn_ him?

Then again…he was rather cheerful. "What makes you think I'll tell _you_?" Pitch asked, deciding to let Mother Nature and her Ladies take care of this.

So long as the world doesn't tip out of balance, again, Pitch isn't going to be the one to tell the boy he's probably only on borrowed time till he succumbs to the chill of the very season he directs (and no wonder the boy is so tired; he's been controlling, on his own, one of the most restless and dangerous seasons, and he's not even an _adult_! What on _Earth_ was Mother Nature _thinking_ when she created him?) and turns to snow and frost.

"Nothing," the boy admits and Pitch, internally, applauds his intelligence.

For such a baby spirit, he's far wiser than those centuries older than him. "Why are you glaring at the village like it ripped out your heart?" the boy continued.

Perhaps he had been too hasty in his early judgment and he bared his teeth at the North Wind when it tried to get between him and Jack.

He was _not_ having that bitter traveler interfering with him _today_.

"That is entirely impossible," Pitch responded.

He'd have to have one for it to be ripped out.

"Why? Because you don't have one?" the boy asks and Pitch stares at him in surprise before he remembered himself and forced his face into neutrality, though he was still nearly flattened with his surprise.

The majority of it comes from the fact that the child voiced what he had been thinking.

The other part comes from the fact he said it to _his face_.

And not in a harsh way, just a teasing way.

"Do you know who I am?" Pitch asked.

"I have ten years of memories. What do you think?" Jack responded and Pitch let out a soft sigh.

Jack Frost really _is_ a baby spirit, isn't he?

Ten years old and managing to keep the world in balance.

And with no helpers, from the looks of it.

For some reason, that angered Pitch.

Angered him in a way that Pitch had not felt for many years.

"Wonderful. I've even fallen out of fellow spirits memories. I'm Pitch Black, the Boogeyman," he explained, though he knew his fury came through his voice.

He honestly did not care right now.

The boy considers him briefly and then looks out to the village, leaning on his staff.

Yes, the boy is tired.

He's also completely naïve and ignorant and he'll be running from the Boogeyman in time.

But for now, he seems content to just be there and Pitch isn't going to kick him over any abyss. "So…that was the first village to walk through you?" Jack asked and Pitch started back, shocking reaching his marrow.

How on _earth_ had the boy deduced that?

Had his shadows been spotted?

No, he would have known, just like Sandman had known whenever Pitch tried to touch the golden sand (and that had not been a fun experience to say the least). But the boy is also tensing now. He's curling and Pitch lets words fly.

"Oh, joy. Someone _else_ to rub that fact into my face."

The laughter is unexpected and it…once again, it is not harsh, or cruel. It is light and teasing, as if Jack thought he had told a joke.

He scowls at the boy anyway.

There are worse spirits out there than him (so much worse, ones who have not been spoken of in an age, who would be more than happy to rip the boy apart, if they had the courage to try and incur Mother Nature's wrath). "No, not at all," Jack protested, though Pitch kept the scowl firmly in place.

"Just saying that glaring at the village won't change anything. And neither will shouting at it, or haunting it or throwing snowballs into people's faces, though that last one is rather fun," the boy continued and Pitch felt floored.

Was the boy…_comforting_ him?

Or attempting to at least?

Really, the child was horrendous at it.

"I know that. I have had far more experience with it then _you_," Pitch snapped, though hiding his own laughter at the situation makes it come out like a growl.

This child, a babe really, is trying to comfort the big bad Boogeyman.

If he were on speaking terms with anyone, he would be telling this story for ages, just to see the horror struck look on their faces.

Because he knows.

He knows that he will be believed in again. Fear comes and goes.

He will take a new shape, a new name. Start over again.

It is just the _manner_ of it this time that makes him grit his teeth and take petty revenge on the village below.

The denouncing so thoroughly.

Fear is _needed_, to keep the children safe.

If they went out on the ice without being careful, it could break under them and they could drown, and without that niggle of fear, there would be no believers _left_. Yes, he went overboard a few times.

He would admit to that, but only to himself, and only within his own mind.

He could no more help it than anyone else, because when he got the smallest taste of fear, it opened up the flood gates to the hissing voices, his tormentors. However, time had slowly quieted them and broke them down, leaving only Pitch, for the most part.

Looking down at the Winter Shepherd, who is leaning away from Pitch, he wonders what will become of the boy.

Pitch thinks he might actually be sad when this boy becomes the snow and frost he wields so easily now.

"Just saying, Boogeyman, you need to have a little fun, or you'll fester and rot," Jack stated and Pitch glared, having a shadow chase after the boy, but he's up and away, the North Wind carrying him up, just out of the shadows reach if Pitch wanted to remain hidden from the Man in the Moon.

The boy has his staff gripped tight, but his other hand is behind his back, and Pitch glared more.

He wouldn't.

"And, you know, the best way to have fun," Jack began and Pitch felt his lip curl into a snarl.

"Don't you dare Frost," Pitch warned.

"Is to have a snowball fight," Jack finished, as if Pitch hadn't interrupted.

And then he's throwing a snowball at him and Pitch easily dodges, having his shadows catch it flawlessly. Well, if that's how the Winter Spirit wants to play…

He is surprised when a flurry of snowflakes hits him in the face, flickering about him. A warmth fills his chest (and it hurts, a little, as if it is something that he felt before, but had lost a long time ago) and he looked up to find Jack watching him hopefully.

Pitch smiled as the snowball Jack had thrown at him, and Pitch had dodged, hit the spirit in the face.

That was fun.

Pitch wondered how much more ammunition Jack would give him before the night was over.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yes, this was part of a 'flip the view' thing.

Same scene, different perspectives.

Originally it was just supposed to be in Pitch's POV, but Jack's POV wrote itself first.

So I decided to do it this way instead.

I am a slave to my muses.


	17. The Snow of the Night

**Summary:** The fight had no winners, nor any losers, and no witnesses.

Save one.

* * *

The moonlight stretched across the darkness of the forest, casting the night in equal parts light and shadow. Across the tree tops, a white haired boy, the Winter Child, flitted along, the North Wind pushing him along, lifting him up into the light and there was a movement, like shadow, that seemed to stop short each time.

The Winter Child laughs, his voice carrying to the village that cannot see or hear him, but are affected all the same, a happiness alighting in their hearts that they cannot explain. Below, in the shadows, a perfect sphere of white shoots up and hits the Winter Child on the foot.

The boy laughs brightly, warmly and he skims the trees fearlessly before he rolls, tossing another snowball into the shadows before he is quickly flitting up, as effortlessly as a snowflake caught in a gale. Another snowball flies up and strikes the boy, this time in the face, and he falters as he chokes on his laughter.

The North Wind almost cradles him, even as it begins to search the trees, rustling them ominously, or maybe it is the shadows, which seem to have taken shape, a form, lithe and lean as a man with too few meals. The shadows quickly disperses as a snowball flies towards them, and the Winter Child flits about, touching the tree tops, but not.

He dances above the shadows and throws snowballs he created with his own hand, grasping the staff tightly within his other hand.

The game ends as suddenly as it started when the Winter Child dips too low and with a shout of surprise is tugged into the darkness.

Laughter rises above the trees and then the Winter Child is flitting through the trees, darting between moonlight and shadow.

He is being chased by a form, one that the moonlight cannot seem to catch, no matter how much it stretches, until the Winter Child bursts out onto the frozen lake, laughing as he turns slightly to smile back at his partner, who enters the clearing in a swirl of shadow.

He is King of the Night or maybe just the things that go bump in the night.

He has a snowball in his hand and the Winter Child is smiling, bright enough and kind enough that it erases the lines of exhaustion that marred the child's face, though they were not noticeable until they were gone.

The King of the Night is merely glowering at the boy and there is more laughter as, simultaneously, both are struck in the head by a snowball.

One is from the boy's hand, the other is from the shadows behind the boy.

The boy pitches forward onto the ice, barely able to catch himself as the King reels back into the shadows and out of the moonlight.

"Truce?" the boy calls, a smile dancing in his voice when his face is hidden by shadow.

"I suppose one can be arranged, for now," the man responded from the shadows themselves.

The boy stands, leaning on his staff as if it is the only thing keeping him upright. "You should rest," the unseen King comments, his voice neutral.

"Is that concern I hear?" the boy answers, but he is already moving to the snow bank, thick and crisp with snow.

"Hardly," the man drawls and the boy flops into the snow.

"I meant at _home_."

"This is home. And I don't remember inviting you in," the boy answered, but he wears a grin on his face and the snow is already lifting up, curling around him like a blanket.

"It is a frozen lake, not a home," the shadowy man retorts.

"Is to me. Only place I've got, anyways. Unless _you_ know of someone or someplace that will have me?"

The only answer is the soft sighing of the wind.

The boy, only a tuft of his hair peeking out of the snow, gives a nod.

"Very well. I shall leave you to your sleeping, Frost. I'd say sweet dreams, but you just spent a few hours in the company of the Boogeyman, so they are not likely to visit you tonight."

There is a rustling and the shadows inexplicably lighten, as if a great presence has left them.

And above, silent and watchful, the Man in the Moon smiles.

* * *

**A/N: **I had a request for the snowball fight.

I tried to write on.

I gave up when my muses demanded the fight.

So, officially, now, the 'Snowball Fight Arc' is over.

I shall return you to your regularly scheduled programming.


	18. Some Talks Must Be Had

**Warnings:** This deals with themes that are parallel to having a child with a possibly fatal disease, which is the best way I can think of to describe it. There will be angst, and emotional upheaval. If you do not feel you cannot handle it, please don't read this.

**Summary:** Not everything in life is easy or kind.

If it were, it would not be life.

* * *

Sandy frets over Jack shortly after the boy practically drops onto the golden cloud. "M'kay Sandman," Jack mumbles out, but Sandy frets more at the slurred words, running a hand through Jack's hair before pulling back with a silent cry of pain, ice crystals forming on Sandy's hand.

Jack is turning twelve and he's freezing out.

Sandy frets and carefully sprinkles a liberal dose of dream sand over Jack, giving the boy dreams of dolphins and snowball fights. Sandy doesn't look too closely at Jack's dreams as he carefully tucks Jack securely into his cloud before he focuses on fixing his hand.

Immortal he may be, that does not mean he is completely unreachable from the world's effects.

Any of the Guardians could have irreparable damage done to them.

Any spirits could for that matter, as well.

Even Pitch.

Not that Sandy ever considered that, of course, and he winced as he flexed his hand before he looked up at the moon.

_I __**am**__ looking, Sanderson._

Manny rarely spoke to Sandy, and he only did when he had no other choice.

He preferred that Sandy and the other Guardians learn things on their own, without his influence.

Sandy felt this was a rather stupid choice on Manny's part, but nothing Sandy did could ever convince him otherwise and so Sandy left Manny to his own devices, only occasionally bringing up when keeping silent had been for the worst when Sandy felt Manny needed the reminder.

Not that Sandy's words, soft though they were, were ever heeded.

Most likely because the pros outweighed the cons.

Sandy sighed and looked over at the boy, wincing when he saw the ice that clung to the golden dream sand.

What was he going to do?

Twelve years was an awfully long time to be shepherding winter alone.

Sandy ran his hand through Jack's hair carefully, smiling when he didn't get more ice crystals attached to his skin and he looked at the boy in concern.

Jack, somehow, was thinner. He was also more tired and drawn out.

Sandy frowned a bit as he continued to run his hand through Jack's hair.

It was almost like Jack was melting and freezing at the same time, a too thin layer of ice over a lake that still had water slipping through and up from under the ice. He continued to run his hand through Jack's hair and then he focused on his dreams, spinning golden life, and planting thoughts of joy. He spun dreams of snowball fights and laughter.

He spun and wove, the golden sand alighting the night as if day was trying to return to the world, but Sandy just continued to spin, drifting on as he went from settlement to settlement, child to child, having the sand dance through the air and curl around any who needed it most.

He focused on what was needed, on his duty as a Guardian, and, once reassured that every child was secure in their dreams, safely kept from Pitch's reach (but only his overstretching reach; some nightmares could not be prevented, nor should they, but that was an entirely different conversation to have on another night), he focused on Jack.

Jack who slept peacefully on.

Jack, who was dreaming of having a snowball fight with Pitch.

Sandy stared at the dream for a while longer, processing what he was seeing, before he smiled and tweaked it slightly so that Pitch wasn't as easily recognizable as before.

While he rarely did something like that, he was about to go visit Mother Nature, with Jack.

And he wasn't about to let her see an image of Pitch in Jack's dreams.

Sandy smiled and gently ruffled Jack's hair before he focused on taking them to Mother Nature.

Winter was gripping the Southern Hemisphere; she would be near the Tooth Palace this time of year then.

And with that, Sandy took off.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Sandy, but there is nothing I can do," Mother Nature stated and Sandy looked between Jack and Mother Nature, a pained expression on his face.

She sighed softly, even as she ran a hand, without thinking about it, through his hair. "I am looking. Manny is looking. And I can't just create someone from the snow, it doesn't work that way, not for the first helper. And Jack has to create those, of frost and ice and snow. _If_ he can. He has to discover it on his own and it might take a few centuries before he can make them permanent, let alone a shape at all. The first helper has to be another like him; which means that someone who fits the requirements must _die_ in Winter. We cannot take a living person and turn them into a winter sprite. It does not work that way, but I sometimes wish it could," Mother Nature answered and Sandy deflated before he waved his hand helplessly at Jack, who slept on.

"I know. But he's doing much better than any other Spirit of Winter. He even has the North Wind answering his calls, and the North Wind answers to _no one_," Mother Nature stated and she removed her hand from Jack's hair as she walked away, the white skirt billowing, the autumn leaves dancing and Sandy gave a soundless sigh.

"We are looking, Sandy. But we can only hope at this point. Maybe you should borrow one of the rabbit's eggs. They contain some. Give it to Jack, or have Jack find it. It will cheer him up and it would give him some hope to hold onto, though he seems to be pretty good at growing it by himself," Mother Nature stated, her voice taking the sheen of ice.

Sandy gave her a look and she sighed, covering her face. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just…we need _everyone_. Both of the Fours, to keep the world in balance. If we don't…." she began and Sandy nodded in understanding.

Centuries ago, when this world was still new, Sandy had been here.

So had Pitch, and Manny and Mother Nature.

It had been them and the Winds and the _others._

In comparison, Pitch was a fluffy pink jaguar kitten.

It was the first, and last, time Sandy and Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, had fought together on the same side.

The others didn't know, however. Thousands, millennia, old, it didn't matter. They did not know why the balance was so necessary.

And losing another Winter Spirit, this close to the last, would be disastrous.

Sandy waved a hand to Jack and made images of Mother Nature talking to Jack.

"No, I haven't spoken with him about the previous Spirits of Winter," Mother Nature stated.

Sandy just stared at her before covering his face and shaking his head. "I know! I need to talk to him," Mother Nature admitted.

Sandy made a strong pointing motion to the ground.

"Now?"

Sandy showed Jack waking up and Mother Nature sighed.

"You're right. I have left him in the dark for too long," Mother Nature murmured and Sandy nodded in agreement.

"Just…how do you tell a child they might die? That…that," she began before she covered her face and began to cry.

Sandy immediately floated over and pat her shoulder.

She did not need words to know what he was saying.

_Is it not crueler to keep the truth from him?_

* * *

Jack awoke with a groan and shook his head slightly. "Jack?" a soft voice called and it took Jack a few more blinks before he managed to place the soft voice and he blinked up at Mother Nature.

He was cuddled up in a snow bank at the meeting place and Mother Nature was sitting next to him. "Mother Nature?" he mumbled, but she gently shushed him, easing him back down when he tried to sit up. "You need sleep, Jack. And you can sleep within here. You're subconsciously shepherding Winter and it is going rather nicely. No…I need to talk to you," she explained, her voice soothing and calming.

For some reason, that set Jack on edge.

He settled however, because he still felt exhausted and she ran a comforting hand over his hair, though he still tensed slightly.

He wasn't used to people besides Sandman touching him.

"Jack, I need to explain something about the previous Spirits of Winter," Mother Nature explained and Jack looked up at her in confusion, the cold of the snow soaking into his very bones.

* * *

Jack lay in shock within the snow.

He could turn into snow and frost.

Mother Nature didn't think it could happen, but it could.

Sandman seemed to be worried, more worried than usual anyway and Jack stared at the staff in his hand.

He stared at it and then, slowly, he began to sit up. Sandman floated over, concern painted on his face and Jack smiled. "If I am going to die, I don't want my last moments in this world for me to be sad. I think I am going to go have fun," Jack answered and Sandman huffed silently, but he was smiling.

Despite the fact that Jack had to lean completely on his staff to stay on his feet, he felt better than he had in days.

Now…where was the nearest village in need of winter cheer?


	19. Something New

**Summary**: Jack's tired, but he always loves to see new things.

* * *

Jack smiled as he drifted to Sandman's cloud, landing a bit more gracefully then last time he had done this. "Hello Sandman," he greeted, smiled as Sandman floated up to hug him tightly.

Jack eagerly returned the hug, savoring the feeling and Sandman carefully released him, before smiling. He then had a snowflake appear above his head followed by a question mark and the globe. "You want to show me something?" Jack asked and Sandman nodded before patting the golden cloud.

Jack smiled a bit, but he settled in and Sandman took off. They flew over the darkened half of the world but before Jack could ask, Sandy assured him that all would be well. Jack relaxed and watched the golden streams, smiling as he let his fingers run through them, dolphins leaping out, horses racing away, wolves running, and snowflakes dancing down the way.

He smiled at the things that leapt from his fingertips, and he laughed a bit, the laughter echoing and singing through the air, causing the few creatures still up and hibernating or hunting to jump up. Far below, Jack can hear a wolf let out a howl and Jack peeks over the edge with a grin, giving the proper howl back.

Learning how to speak back had been hard, especially when sometimes he couldn't make the right noise, but the Winds usually helped by altering the sound slightly so it would be correct.

The howl was one of them and Jack smiled as Sandman ruffled his hair.

He then noticed that they were slowing down and he peered down at the cold and snowy world below. It was filled with the snowstorm he had blown in just yesterday and he glanced at Sandman, who waved down. Jack shrugged and looked down…and watched as a large herd of horses, with manes sticking straight up and merely shadows in the moonlight made their way through the snow.

Their breath curled up in clouds, thick and heavy, and Jack watched in amazement as they continued to move through the darkness of the night. Jack watched in amazement. Sandman then tapped Jack's shoulder and they began to move once more, this time travelling until they came to camels.

_Camels_.

Jack thought they only lived in the desert!

He stared down in amazement, though they seemed to be sleeping, or at least resting and Jack watched, eyes wide.

And then they were off again, rushing north, the North Wind playing with them as they rushed along, across the snowy tundra when Jack heard an eerily, haunting, _beautiful_ sound. He sat up slightly and listened, as another joined in and another. The calls reached for the stars and then raced along the wind.

Jack felt his breath catch in his chest and he smiled in wonder, everything about him almost lighting up as the song continued, a cry of joyful reunion.

It took him awhile to realize that was what it meant.

It was a family.

Jack let out a laugh as snowflakes began to dance upon the breeze.

He did not need to check to know that they came from him and Sandman smiled at him warmly before he hugged Jack tightly.

Jack did not need verbal words from Sandman to know what he was saying.

_Welcome home, Jack._


	20. The Four Powers

**Summary:** Another Session of the Seasons is being called.

Oh joy of joys.

* * *

Jack touched down with a slight stumble and brushed snow from his shoulders. "About time Frost," May stated and Jack gave her a look from across the compass.

"You try shepherding winter on your own," Jack shot back.

Summer winced and gave an apology, but Jack waved her off with a grin, leaning on his staff while Chyou looked over at him. "Do you need to borrow some of my aides?" she questioned, but Jack shook his head.

Most were asleep during the winter and he already knew that they wouldn't be able to help anyway. "I'm all right Chyou, thank you," he answered, knowing that she was still searching for a way to repay her 'debt' to him.

He did not get it.

At all.

He just went with it because trying to tell her that he was fine and that there was no debt to repay was like telling a mountain to step to the side.

It would not budge, and neither would she.

He huffed and let his hair fly out of his eyes while the other three looked at each other nervously.

Spring, somehow more awake then last time, floated over to him and eyed him concern. He leaned away from her hand and shook his head at her. "Nu-uh. No touching me. I don't want to be known as the Winter Spirit who killed the Spring Spirit," he stated and she laughed at him before she flitted back, and then she asked about the Easter Bunny, of all things.

"No, I haven't met him yet," he answered and Spring shook her head a bit.

She said something, but Jack didn't catch it, though it caused May to snicker into her hand.

Both Chyou and Jack exchanged a long-suffering look.

It was amazing that after only an eye blink of time (for the other Seasons) that they had bonded so fast.

They couldn't touch, which was why the group mainly communicated with looks.

Jack had a habit of giving people frostnip when they held onto him for too long while May had a habit of drying people's skins out to the point of it cracking and bleeding. Autumn's nails have a habit of biting into skin whenever she touches someone (Jack can attest to that) and Spring sometimes makes flowers grow over whoever she is touching.

They embody the season they take care of. They hold it within them and direct it where it needs to go.

This affects them greatly, and Jack knows that time will allow him to be less dangerous to people on the whole, but other Seasonal Spirits will always be people he cannot touch.

It leaves a rather bitter taste in Jack's mouth when he thinks about it, so he tries not to.

"I just hope this one is faster. I don't think I can handle another three day session," Jack stated and May nodded in agreement.

Chyou shifted in her saddle, before she leaned forward to gaze at Jack. "Are you sure you are quite fine Jack?" she questioned.

Jack nodded and then balanced up on his staff, grinning a bit as the other three shared a look, even as Spring began to make flowers bloom along her stag's antlers.

Jack grinned at the fact they were all white and May shook her head in exasperation at Spring before she added a leaf presented to her by her helper (a lithe male who looked like he was a type of sprite or something out of a fairytale) to her crown.

"Do they always do this?" Jack asked Chyou, who began to fiddle with her fan.

"Yes," Chyou responded, earning the Spirits of Autumn and Winter a look of irritation from the Spirit of Summer.

Before either could snap back a response, Mother Nature was before them.

Jack _really_ hoped this didn't take three days.

* * *

Jack let out a sigh of relief as he sunk into the golden cloud and Sandman, he was sure, was looking at him in concern, but Jack's eyes were closed and he was not opening them for anything short of the end of the world and even then he might keep them closed.

"Why is it that the simplest of things takes four days to discuss?" Jack asked, finally forcing his eyes open when he remembered that Sandman couldn't talk.

He got a shrug in return.

"Thanks Sandman, _that's_ helpful," Jack muttered.

He was sure Sandman was laughing a little at him.

Jack found he didn't mind.

He would probably find himself laughing at the situation after he had some sleep.

It had been a very , _very_ long week.

* * *

**Author's Note:** While I feel bad about not writing Jack and the other Seasons bonding, at the same time, most of it happened because of magic (Jack's magic, actually, because I was originally going to write a scene where it is the middle of Autumn/Spring and Jack started a game between the four of them, but I couldn't decide _what_ game and ended up not writing it because I realized I would have to make one up and, at the time, I was far too exhausted).

However, beyond Jack's magic, they naturally form close bonds because they _have_ to.

They _have_ to have each others' backs.

And they know this, just like Jack knows where to go for winter and what to do where (it isn't _always_ on a whim).

Why is this so?

Spoilers.


	21. The Screams of the Lost

**Summary: **The voice ringing back across the clearing cannot be his, but it is.

* * *

Jack spins his staff around in his hand, watching the children play in the snow he had lain down especially for them.

Each flake he had created, in the perfection of the first snowfall of the season.

He had made each with care he usually reserved only for his frost decorations, and making everything look sugar coated, just so he could give them the first perfect snow of the season.

And he did it with each new place, each new snow, the first of the season everywhere. The beginning of winter for each place that got snow. He made it perfect and crisp. And sometimes it wasn't much, it was just the finest dusting, but at the same time, it was still the perfect snow.

Jack smiled at the laughter that echoed up as the snow drifted down.

He carefully tapped one of the snowflakes with his finger and then flicked it towards one of the children that sat to the side, somber and sad, only to earn a small laugh. And then he was up and running to the group.

Jack didn't have a chance to move to the side before he was run straight through.

He staggered a bit, using his staff to keep himself from collapsing to the ground and gripped his chest.

It _hurt_, hurt worse this time, and he hunkered down slightly, the snow shifting from the perfect snow he tried so hard to create to the sad mournful flakes that came recently with his emotions.

Chyou had said that this would get worse with time.

Jack just stared at the snow and he suddenly leapt up onto the North Wind's back, who quickly sped him away. They raced through the air, hiding Jack's tears that welled up and spilled back, the fine ice drops flitting about through the air in the wind's sharp strike and still they raced on, pushing past and beyond everything they could reach.

Eventually, Jack landed on the frozen lake he called home and stared up at the moon that hung in the sky. It was bright and full, soft and Jack felt as if it was weighing down on him.

He still felt the distant ache of the boy who had run through him.

He still felt as if his entire existence had been blown apart before being set back into place, but not properly. As if something was still broken within him. He stared at the moon and suddenly, something snapped.

He let out a scream of rage, and he does not know what else it could be.

He screams and he shouts and the Wind _howls_ around him, as if that will make everything better. The snow snaps up, his coat flutters madly in the cutting breeze, and he feels something sharp strike his cheek, but he doesn't care as he feels himself forming words.

He's shouting and he doesn't even know what he is saying.

He is screaming and he doesn't know why.

And then his rage is gone and he just slumps onto the ground in the middle of the snow covered lake, curling in on himself as he sobs, ice drops falling into the snow, as each sob is punctuated by one word.

_Why?_

He continues to sob, his chest tearing itself apart, shaking apart at the seams, clinging to his staff as if it is the only thing keeping him sane, and he wants Sandy to be there, he wants someone, anyone, to be there and hold him and tell him that it will all be okay in the end.

All he has is the moon, shining down.

Shining down on his bowed and beaten form, because he does not think he can take this lonliness anymore. He does not think he can take the pain of being walked through anymore.

His voice is a whisper now, broken and shaking, as he continues to ask why.

Why is he like this?

Why does he have no one else?

Why won't the Moon answer him?

Why is being punished?

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long.


	22. Snowflake

**Summary:** It was like a jolt of energy that set his nerve endings on fire.

Something had changed.

* * *

Jack kept his eyes closed to the bright light of the full moon as he thought on the changes the world was undergoing.

Across the stretch of settled land, there were whispers of a confrontation, of a war.

A new book had been published just a few days back, three if Jack's calculations were correct. _Poor Richard's Almanack_, that the writer hoped to publish yearly, in a 'serial', which both amused Jack and made him wonder how that would come to pass.

He tugged a bit on his collar, his hands shaking slightly as he did so, so that it was hiding him more, and he rested with his arm wrapped securely around his staff, or as securely as he could get his trembling limbs to grasp it.

He was twenty-one now.

He had been for six days.

He felt like he was dying, like everything was ending and beginning at once. He was always tired now, stretched too thin and sleeping for longer and longer stretches.

Sandman hated leaving him alone for any stretch of time, but there was a duty to fullfill and Jack had always smiled at him, no matter how exhausted him, and sent him on his way.

Pitch, in an odd turn of events, had actually shown up the day after Jack's birthday practically concerned.

Jack had teased him mercifully for it from his position curled up in a snow bank. A snow bank Jack had fallen into shortly before Pitch just appeared and he couldn't seem to really get out of it. It had been one of the worst days Jack had experience and the North Wind now handled him with gentle reverence and care that Jack was sure was reserved only for him in his most dire of conditions.

He figured this was one of those dire conditions.

He coughed a bit, hiding his face into his shoulder, when he felt something akin to a lightning bolt racing up his spine.

He was suddenly filled with energy, too much energy, and he practically cracked the tree in half when he iced it over.

He jumped into the air, the North Wind carrying him in one place that was fluttering and unsteady, but doing it all the same.

Jack was panting, knowing that he should eat, that his powers would be better handled if he ate, but something was screaming at him to go, fly, rush, to _here_.

He did not know where _here_ was, but he knew it was important, knew that it was vital, and that he needed to go. He needed to race on the Winds and rush. He looked around, but the North Wind already understood.

With a howling gale, it tore off. They skimmed the ocean waters, frozen and icy cold. They rushed through clear spots and the sharp turns. They raced over the tops of a forest, deep and dark, and still they rushed on. They rushed until they came to a mountain. Well, hill might be more appropriate, which had a cave system that, in the spring, had some caves open to the sky, and in the winter, the ice grew over till they were made into solid caves, covering the precarious holes.

Jack landed in the snow.

The _fresh_ snow.

He felt his forehead scrunch up slightly and he knelt down, running his fingers through it. His frost rushed out, icing it over, but there was a different _feel _to this snow, as if it was created by another entity.

He did not make this snow and it was not of Mother Nature's magic either, though she rarely touched into the Seasons duties, sometimes the form of clouds just happening to happen. There was a soft whisper, as if something had rushed across the snow and Jack looked up.

The feeling was gone and he slowly stood up, hand gripping the staff tightly. He turned in a slow circle, cautious.

There was another whisper like sound and he turned around, finding nothing, until he turned toward where one of the caves that Jack _knew_ was open to the air when he first came for winter's chill.

There, standing half in shadow, was a young female. Her age was odd to pinpoint (though Jack thought she might be his age, looks wise), and she was watching him with her arms curled close to her body and her bare, white as snow, hands grasping at the rock.

"Evening," he greeted and she jumped slightly, looking behind her so fast it caused white hair that was too long and likely to get tangled up in _something_ soon, fly through the air before she looked back at him.

"You can see me?" she asked, surprised.

Jack swallowed a bit at that question and he nodded.

She stepped forward then, into the moonlight, catching like the snow around her. Everything about her, from her hair to the coat that practically blended into her skin, thus making her look more bell like, and made that whispering sound he heard earlier, reminded him of the snow that was all around. He smiled at her and she paused.

He immediately walked forward and stopped right in front of her, unsure of what to do now, when he remembered people introducing themselves. "My name's Jack Frost. What's yours?" he asked.

"Eirawen, the Snow Maiden," she answered.

Jack gave a tiny smile. "How long have you been here, Eye-rah-wen?" Jack asked, tripping a bit over the pronunciation, but getting it in the end.

Eirawen looked thoughtful and then answered, "A couple of hours. I just...woke up from the snow. It hurt, a bit. And then the Moon told me my name. Eirawen, the Snow Maiden. Makes sense, since I made it snow."

Jack looked up at the Moon and then back down at her, quickly connecting the dots.

Mother Nature promised and said she was looking. Sandman swore they were.

He was suddenly filled with energy, he no longer felt as if he was going to stretch too far and then shatter, like ice spread over too much ice.

His aide had been born.

He reached out and, gently, touched her cheek, to make sure that this wasn't just entirely in his mind.

There was a spark of blue light at his fingertips at the contact and he felt as if he was got another jolt of energy, but this one much subtler and she jumped a bit at the shock, before she suddenly latched onto his wrist, as if realizing, in the same moment, that this was not a dream, this was not a figment of their imagination.

This was _real_.

He remembered the hug, the first human contact he ever had, and carefully tugged Eirawen forward and folded her into a tight hug. "Welcome to the world Eirawen," he greeted and she tensed a bit before she curled into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head burrowing into his collar bone.

A bit painful, but something he could deal with.

And around them, the snow began to swirl, as if preparing for a storm.

* * *

**A/N:** *prepares to hide in bunker*

You know how the Pitch ones made me nervous?

This made me even _more_ nervous.


	23. Fruitcake

**Summary: **Fruitcakes made by eight year olds are never as good as ones made by the mothers, but it would break her heart if it was returned home.

* * *

The first time Jack realized food was necessary was during his first week of life.

He had been having so much fun, he had over done it. He had to use his staff to support himself, and hadn't been careful. He just swiped what he could get the fastest and then he began to eat it as quickly as he could.

Since then, he knew that he needed food as often as he could get it and even more so after he had a huge expenditure of power.

After the storm of 1717, which he really wished he could forget, he had eaten as part of an automatic response. His subsequent care with Sandman had insured he ate regularly as well and, even if he had severely disliked most of what he had eaten at the palace Sandman had made for him, he had eaten it all because beggars could not be choosers and he would not risk losing food over being picky.

After getting an Aide, he was hoping that this would change.

It did not.

It didn't increase the frequency either, which was a good thing, because they were pretty strapped anyway.

This led him to his current predicament.

He was getting to the point where food was less something he could pass on and more something he needed to get. A series of snowstorms he and Eirawen had created were starting to wear on him and he really didn't feel like having a repeat of 1717.

So Jack took to haunting houses and looking for something that would not be missed when he found an open, and inviting, dance hall. He hesitated at the partially open door before he slipped in, bringing with him a shiver of cold air to those close to the door, which made them shift away.

Along the wall was a table with food and he noticed there was a cake that no one was eating. He hesitated and headed toward it, carefully crouching out of the way as he heard people talk. "Poor Sally; she'll be heart broken when I bring this back home," one of the men stated as he stood by the table.

"I'm sure she'll be fine. Besides, it is only because she's just learning. I'm sure someone will take it home besides you. So long as they don't know it is Sally's," one of his friends answered and the man frowned.

"She is eight and still learning," the father returned and Jack eyed the cake.

He waited for the men to return to the dancing before he carefully picked it up. He smiled a bit to find that it had been burned so it did not crumble and, with care he usually reserved for creating the perfect first snow, he carried it out into the night. He looked around and then took off, carefully flitting through the air until he came to his lake.

He frowned a bit when he saw that Eirawen was gone, and he turned in a circle when he heard the rustle-whisper that was her coat rushing along the snowy ground. He turned and found her standing on the snow bank, looking excited. She looked up and grinned. "Jack, look what I can do!" she exclaimed and suddenly she faded into the snow.

Jack froze, but then she was standing in the snow under a tree with a grin. "I can travel through the snow! And…and I can sense where snow is. Like, in the North Pole, and there's a building there! And in mountains and all over a couple of islands in the ocean! And…and on plains over to the Far East! It is amazing! Oh! And there's a snowstorm blowing up across those plains!" she exclaimed, her hand clutching tightly over the left side of her coat as she laughed over her new found ability.

Jack smiled brightly at her discovery and could already tell that she wanted to go to these snowy places. "Eirawen, come on, I have food," he stated and she immediately rushed over, nearly slipping onto her backside as she stepped onto the ice, but she finds her footing as she continues, though it is shaky and she more falls down instead of sitting down, but they eat the cake.

It is burnt and it sits like ash on the tongue. Eirawen makes snowballs to help get it down, but doesn't complain about the food.

It is gone before the waning moon has finished setting and Jack grins at where Eirawen is practically vibrating in place. "Go have fun," he answered and she is up, nearly falling again, heading to the snow and then she's gone.

Jack isn't consumed with worry (though he is worried, because he knows that she's going to head towards villages, and learn what he learned at his birth), because he knows, like he knows about the snowstorms and the pull of winter, that he'll be able to find her if she's in trouble.

But it aches to know that, after only a week of knowing her, she's already gone, off and exploring.

He sighs and taps his staff, creating a frost burst across the lake.

He eyes it and smiles before he has the North Wind help him hover. With a gentle reverence, he begins to paint his frost across the lake.

The frost, the ice, curling and spinning as he paints the dancers he saw in the hall.

He knows the snow he is bringing tonight will cover it.

He makes it anyway, the silhouettes of frost.

And he smiles, even as he begins to call up the snow before he leaps into the air with a laugh.

There are frost designs to create and fun to be had.

And an Aide to check up on as well, once he's brought laughter to a few more places.

* * *

**A/N: **Originally, I was going to post this much earlier, but it never fit. It would just be something he did and not something he needed to think about, sort-of. It was really complicated, but every time I tried to write it, I couldn't. However, I tried writing it with Jack and Eirawen, and it wrote itself without Eirawen being the one who nearly drops from exhaustion and starvation, so yay!

Also...when I say I don't ship Jack with anyone...I mean anyone.

Including OCs.

Especially Eirawen.

So, you are all safe from Jack Frost/OC romance.


	24. Golden Sands Caught in Silver Dreams

**Summary:** Flecks of golden sand drift down and he laughs as it rests in his hair, causing it to gleam.

Sandy is relieved to see him so alive.

* * *

Sandy nearly falls of his cloud in shock as Jack lands on it with a laugh. "Hello Sandman!" Jack greeted and Sandy beamed over how _alive_ Jack looked.

He threw question marks above his head and snowflakes and Jack beams. "I have an Aide. Eirawen. She's in...Iceland right now, laying down a new layer of snow," Jack answered and Sandy threw up an hourglass above his head.

Jack grinned brightly and answered, "Nearly one month now. She was born on the full moon and I flew right to her. It was...I stopped feeling like something was trying to drown me."

Sandy does not respond to that and he feels his sands dim lightly at the statement before he smiles warmly and the sands brighten once more.

Like Jack, he must look on the bright side and see the good. Jack has his Aide. The danger of falling asleep and turning into the ice and snow he wields so expertly is gone. Jack leaned back on his cloud, some of the golden sand puffing up slightly before it settled into his hair, glinting like long forgotten stars. Sandy reached over and fluffed out the golden sand and Jack laughs, the laughter reaching into the air and then he's on his feet, skimming up more.

Sandy knows his sand will hold no sway for now, but he'll crash hard in his snow bank when his euphoria begins to head on the down swing, so Sandy decides to keep close.

He weaves his dreams and watches Jack play with the streams, though never alter their course, and the dolphins that leap out are far more energetic then Sandy has seen before, though the streams pull back as their job is done, guarding the dreams of each and every child.

Sandy's eyes dart in the shadows, briefly searching for Pitch's stalking form, but he is not there and so Sandy focuses on the flitting Spirit of Winter. He is starting to slow down and Sandy urges his cloud over, easily catching Jack as he collapses, asleep in seconds and Sandy shakes his head before heading to the lake.

He can deviate from his route for a short time and he settles Jack into his prefered snow bank, the world still for once. Sandy smiles and then frowns slightly as silver images began to flit above Jack's head. Curious, he leans forward and watches how a girl struggles to form. Sandy, hesitantly, fluffs up Jack's hair and the gold sparkles lift into the dream, glinting through, helping the dream form...before it collapses and Jack let's out a whimper of pain.

Sandy pulls back in confusion and Jack begins to kick slightly, more shapes trying to form.

Sandy carefully calls the golden sand back and his eyes widen in alarm when Jack begins to let out pained cries as it gets worse, and then Sandy reaches out, touching the silver...liquid.

It shivers under Sandy's touch before the golden sand absorbs it and takes it away, startling Jack awake, panting softly, his eyes wide, fearful and still pained. Sandy's forehead furrowed in concern and carefully hugs him. Jack hugs him back, burying his head into Sandy's shoulder the best he can.

They stay like that for a few minutes, holding Jack close. There is a distant whispering sound, as if something is rushing over the snow, but Jack doesn't move and Sandy is focused on calming Jack back down. When he is calm and the pain is missing from his face, Sandy blows golden snowflakes into his face and Jack falls into a peaceful sleep, filled with sledding and snowball fights and a girl with long hair in a coat, or maybe a dress, that makes her look like a bell slipping and falling across the ice.

There is more snow related dreams and then the wolves appear, running through his dreams, howling to the moon, greeting Jack's sand form like an old friend before it turns to reindeer, and then foxes.

They are scenes that Jack finds joy in, including watching children play in the snow he has lain down for them.

Sandy smiles and then settles on his cloud.

When he begins to rise back up into the sky, he thinks he sees someone dart through the snow, but when he looks again, there is nothing but moonlight, snow, and shadow.

Under the light of the nearly full moon, Jack is safe.

And with that, Sandy heads back to the children and their dreams.


	25. Swirling Snow and Bright Laughter

**Summary: **Jack and the North Wind play. (A piece of fluff to welcome back 300 Years after the unwanted hiatus.)

* * *

"Go 'way Wind," Jack muttered and sighed as the North Wind nudged at his face, trying to urge him into flying off.

Urge him up and away, gently trying to pull him into the air, maybe get him to play, but Jack was tired. Not like _before_, but just tired from lack of sleep. Lately, if he slept out in the moonlight, he would get horrible, pain-filled, headache inducing dreams, as if his entire body was rebelling against whatever was being carefully slipped into his mind and he feared going to sleep.

Now, he only slept in the quiet of the shadows, nestled away from the world and slept like the dead for as long as he had darkness until the moonlight came back and his dreams were invaded. He shivered a bit at the thought and groaned when the Wind continued to tug at him, pulled at him, tried to urge him up into the air, to _play_ and Jack really wasn't feeling up for it right now.

But then the North Wind curled around him and whispered of something _new_.

"New?" Jack questioned, already perking up.

The Wind tugs lightly at his coat and his hair, pulling him up. Jack laughed as he was tossed up and soon there were racing across the sunlight sky, and then he was skimming across the icy ocean and Jack whooped as he was pulled up high into the air to keep from accidentally causing any problems as he watches swimming creatures, like whales, but also like dolphins, with curled horns from their noses and he laughs as he sees them, swimming up a channel through the ice, their horns breaking through.

The Wind keeps him above and they follow the family of creatures as they get up to wherever they are going before the North Wind is tugging him up and suddenly spinning him off and the East Wind whistles by, catching him easily before tearing to the East and, briefly, the South Wind carries him before the East Wind is catching him up and sending him flying through the air, and then the North Wind is roaring through and Jack is laughing, especially as the West Wind blusters up, snatching him from the North Wind playfully.

He is spinning and swirling and the snow is flying fast and thick, spinning through the air in an abandoned place, the animals having sensed the incoming storm as the playfulness of the Winds increased.

And Jack's laughter rang through the sky and up to the sun.


End file.
